Still
by Scar7
Summary: Set six months after Brendan left Hollyoaks and Ste. A daring escape and finally the hardest decision of his life
1. Human - part 1

**Autor: Scar**

**Title: Still (from a Stendan song, sorry Daughter's song)**

**genre: dark, action, angst**

**characters: Ste Hay, Brendan Brady**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: dark content, blood and sex**

**Summary: Set about six months after Brendan's arrest (Hollyoaks Later yeaaaah!) and has a happy ending (double yeaaah!) The whole plot is already in my head, but in the end the story could consist in 5 or 10 chapters, I don't know. Every chapters has as title a Daughter's song and is divided in more parts.**

**Please please, review ***_gets down on her knees_*

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**Chapter 1**

**part 1**

**Human**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Woken up like an animal  
Teeth ready for sinking  
My mind's lost in bleak vision  
I tried to escape but keep sinking_

_Limbs lost to a dead wait steak_  
_Skull cage like a prison_  
_And he has lost faith to ever see again_  
_So may he once taught of me then_

_Underneath the skin there's a human_  
_Buried deep within there's a human_  
_And despite everything I'm still human_  
_But I think I'm dying here_

_Waking up like an animal_  
_I'm all ready for healing_  
_My mind's lost with nightmares streaming_  
_Waking up (kicking screaming)_

_Take me out of this place I'm in_  
_Break me out of this shale case I'm in_

_I think that I'm still human_

_[Human - Daughter]_

.

.

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"Die, you fucker!"

The controller flew across the room as the words 'game over' appeared on the TV screen.

Ste slumped into the couch. He was exhausted and sweaty and, with a quick glance at the clock on the wall to his left, found out he had spent the last two hours fighting against aliens from Zonak, trying to win the decisive battle.

Someone might have probably said he should have found something more constructive to do with his time, like to clean up and make the flat more decent, for example. But the more he looked and looked at the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, laying strewn on the floor, the more that mess seemed to comfort him. It at least gave to him the impression of a warm and welcoming house. If it hadn't been for the nauseating smell, he could almost have considered that mess as a modern art sculpture.

He should have met Peterson in a little more than a half an hour, and at that thought he sighed in frustration running a hand through his hair. For months, that was the only kind of meeting he was allowing himself, but he consoled with the fact that he came back home with a beautiful bunch of cash in his pockets making them heavier.

Peterson was an intermediary who pushed drugs away from Hollyoaks, and Ste, in cahoots with two of the Roscoe brothers, has been able to enter such a lucrative business where the main line was the high quality dope. Sometimes, it was necessary to understand that the shitty drug could have brought much more gain in the beginning, but not long-term, because sooner or later - sooner rather than later – the consumers would have ended up in the hospital, at best, and anyway their number would inevitably have been falling in the course of time, and so his profits. Instead, it was important, for the sake of the business profitability, that costumers remained in good health, alive at least, as long as possible. That approach had helped the 'Hay-Roscoe' company to realize a satisfying success.

.

All had started with his insane desire to buy the Chez-Chez, renamed 'The Loft' in the meantime.

And when it had not been possible to reach a deal, Ste had found himself in possession of an exorbitant amount of cash, in the metal box where once he used to hide Brendan's preferred cookies. Yeah, that Brendan, the man who had been almost killed and then arrested, and had also pushed him out of his life as if nothing had happened between them, as if Ste had been nothing more than a stain that had to be completely removed from Brendan's favorite suit.

Breaking up the business partnership with Doug, spending the whole day fucking around the village, in bed or killing boredom and monsters with the play, was almost physiological. At least, it was easier for him to resist temptation to turn from seller into end user for the same stuff he was dealing. He still had enough common sense to know that would have turned in his grave.

Sometimes, he wondered where he found the strength to go on.

When he had gone to visit his kids in Manchester, for example, had stood Amy's vitriolic glance when he had brought a mountain of toys for the kids, but only once she had ventured to ask him where he had taken the money. On that occasion he had given her a withering look and a piece of his mind, saying:

"Have I got no right to spoil my kids, Amy? Sorry if they are the only thing I've left in my life. "

Thankfully, Amy had not dared to utter the name of Brendan. It had been very wise of her, because that anger of ages ago was awakened, step by step, inside of him. Now it was colder and consequentially ruthless, and used to reach the climax whenever the thought of the Irishman came back hammering in his mind, more than usual. In those moments, he would have punched and kicked anyone, his children's mum included. Just the thought of the kids had stopped him from crossing that line.

.

After a refreshing shower, Ste started looking for something where he could have hidden the bags of pills; in the end, he found an old newspaper. One of the last ones he had bought; that was when they had ceased speaking about Brendan, jumping at more juicy news.

Six months earlier, Brendan Brady's arrest had been the most red-hot event for the Chester Herald, since Silas. After a few months, the articles were reduced to short paragraphs about the trial, in the second and third page, and at the end of it all, when the news didn't any longer hit the headlines, three lines on the last one: thirty years. Brendan had got thirty years for his crimes.

When Ste had read that news, it felt like he had received the same punishment, but without guilty verdict. Maybe, he had changed just because of that, since his thoughts had become all:

_Okay, you sons of bitches! You have condemned me to thirty years without I've done anything. You've taken away from me the love of my life. Well, you owe me my next thirty years, and I want to spend them in my own way._

When they stopped speaking about Brendan, attention had shifted on a guy who had run away from Italy and then been caught in the area around Chester. He was a mobster or, as Italian say, 'mafioso'. It had been a very important arrest, possible only thanks to the collaboration amongst Interpol, DIA, the Italian center of investigation against Mafia's crimes, and FBI.

A big cheese, therefore, not an ordinary delinquent as Brendan Brady was.

The only thing the two men had in common was the sentence.

Thirty years for the mafioso.

Thirty years for killing five people who deserved to die.

Ste kept thinking there was no justice in this world. That's why he felt growing, inside of him, a deeper and deeper hatred towards everyone and everything. Sometimes, he used to close his eyes, thinking that, if he concentrated enough, he could blow the fucking world up, and a wicked grin took shape on his lips at the sound of the explosion and thousand fragments ranging in all directions of the cosmos. But then he thought of his kids, Leah and Lucas' little smiling faces as they saw him every week with his arms full of puppets and games for the Wii, and so he limited himself to demolish the last opponent in Mortal Kombat.

.

Ste carefully put the bags of pills in the fold of the newspaper, and put it all under his arm. He only had ten minutes left, but he didn't care. He hated to get there first and preferred to arrive to the edge of the park with Peterson who was waiting for him. That made him feel more comfortable, if only because he would have seen if the police had arrived first.

Maybe, he would have been better off buying a more recent newspaper, but he had never been a great reader in general and didn't like to watch the national newscast, as well. If he had done it, he would have found out that mafioso boss had escaped just the day earlier.

.

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**JOSEPH DEVITA ESCAPED DURING THE TRANSFER TO THE MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON IN MANCHESTER.**

**.**

Joseph Devita, 40 years old, also known as 'O Mericano' (The American, A/N), was helped to escape by an armed group, during his transfer to HM Prison Manchester, also known as Strangeways.

Joseph Devita, native American, is one of the most feared boss of eastern Sicily, Italy. He should have been locked up for 30 years for criminal conspiracy, murder and extortion. In the van, besides Devita, there were two other prisoners: Carmelo Di Pasquale, 36 years old, from Caltanissetta, Italy, right-hand man and responsible of several cruel murder, including Alfonso Terra's, 11 years old, who was dissolved in acid; Brendan Brady, 32 years old, from Dublin, North Ireland, guilty on five voluntary manslaughter, including his father's.

All three of them were sentenced to life imprisonment. They are now on the run and potentially dangerous. During the escape, two police officiers and the driver died, the third policeman lies dying in the hospital. The investigators reckon that at least one of the fugitives is seriously injured.

There is huge embarrassment in the Greater Manchester Police headquarter. The massive manhunt involved hundreds of police members since yesterday morning, but it so far gave no positive results.


	2. Human - part 2

4

**Thank you very much guys for reading and reviewing. I'm very happy you're enjoying this thing. This chapter drained me, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.**

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**Part 2**

**Human**

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**.**

**.**

_Forty days ago_

Every Sunday, there was bacon for breakfast. Thin, crispy. It melted in your mouth.

Then you could choose eggs, cooked in every possible way: boiled, fried, scrambled, poached. Brendan liked to take them lying on toast with butter and cheese, beside two slices of sizzling bacon that made him salivate in anticipation.

He had learned to enjoy the wait between a Sunday and the next one, when he would have found himself in front of that inviting dish, then he would have attended the ten o'clock Mass, and later spent the whole afternoon in the library or playing chess in the common room. He usually preferred to be in company with a good book, though, and keep himself a safe distance from trouble, especially if it had Johnson's likeness.

There was a bully in every community. Johnson had happened by chance in his.

Thankfully, the guy was at the end of his imprisonment, and since it was useless to count down until he would have got out, Brendan had started counting the days Johnson still had to serve.

In conclusion, Brendan was spending his time in the waiting for Sunday bacon and the moment he would be got rid of the infective presence of Johnson.

It's been one of those Sunday mornings and Brendan was queueing up with his tray to get his slice of paradise, without noticing Johnson and his clique had chosen just him as a target.

He started getting a bit slightly suspicious as he put his tray on a table, strangely free. He heard someone laugh and some of them mumbling behind him,. After that Johnson and his minion, Monroe, sat down in front of him. Johnson had a cigarette between his lips and began to blow smoke straight in Brendan's face.

Clearly, smoking was prohibited in the canteen and in any enclosed places, but Johnson had a certain degree of freedom in that department, and if one of the guards had given him a cigarette, Brendan wouldn't have been surprised

He regarded that as a very serious breach of the prison rules, both the official and unofficial ones. Plus he had always hated the smell of smoke, especially during his favorite breakfast.

Brendan let out a low growl, then stood up in silence, took the tray and walked to another table, However, a few seconds later, he realized his move was been useless. Johnson followed him and kept blowing smoke in his face.

He took in a deep breath and started counting backwards from twenty in his mind. He was on fifteen as Johnson started talking in his ear.

"Let me guess: you don't like smoke, do ya?"

Brendan slowly turned to him. Their noses were almost touching each other. Mixed to Johnson's breath, the smell of smoke was even more disgusting.

"You could have said that" he added, and then pulled away just long enough that Brendan thought Johnson had done with him and was going to leave him alone.

He sighed of relief, then Johnson suddenly stubbed out his cigarette in his plate. On his bacon.

In a few moments the tray flew from the table to Johnson's face along with a fierce scream.

He dodged Monroe's attack and delivered a powerful punch against his ribs. Brendan heard the cracking of bones.

As fast as lightning, and likewise powerful, he grabbed Johnson's head with both his hands and stroked his face with his knee, breaking his nose. The guards stopped him before he could kick in his balls as well.

No breakfast, no Mass, no library.

Brendan spent the rest of the day, and the next ones, in solitary confinement.

.

.

When Brendan was staying in the silent darkness of his cell, he used to have a letter in his hands. He didn't need to read it because he had learnt it by heart. Steven had written it several months before and Cheryl had handed it to him. It was a brief letter. It talked about a visit to Cheryl's castle, when Steven had ridden a horse for the first time, and about Leah who had drawn about Daddy Brendan. Nothing more. No 'I love you', no 'please let me visit you'. That soppy git had perfumed the letter with his eau de toilette, though, and Brendan approached his nose to the paper, filling his lungs. Even after all those months, that letter still had Steven's scent.

Sometimes he used to close his eyes and it was as if he was there, at his side.

Sometimes reopening them was so painful, as soon as he realized of being alone and that he would have been that way for the next thirty years. It was as dying slowly in the most painful suffering.

Sometimes, though, thinking of Steven gave him the strength to keep breathing or dealing with inevitable punishments.

The worst of them was the common loos cleaning and he would have to do it for a week.

It was his first day and, while he was sweeping, he was talking to the guard watching over his job, Benjamin.

Brendan turned back to him only when he heard no one of his usual grunts behind him.

Benjamin was gone and in his place there was Johnson with his bandaged nose. Behind the latter, three guys who used to stay along with him. Monroe was still in the infirmary with his ribs broken.

One of those guys shut the door and Brendan heard the click of a trap resonate in his head. Then punches, pain and, finally, darkness.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital room with the needle of a drip-feed stuck in his arm and a pain that was tearing him, inch by inch.

The memory of what happened hit him like a train: the bullies who blocked him; his bones creaking at every stroke, his dignity torn as well as his flesh.

He remembered he had screamed, but no one had come to save him. The providential loss of his senses had come as liberation. In the last few mad moments he had prayed to die quickly.

Sobs shook his chest and physical pain became even stronger. He started screaming and each shout he felt his viscera split. After a few seconds two nurses and the officer guarding out of his room, rushed in.

His screams weakened as soon as morphine started to have an effect over him.

When he opened his eyes the second time, it was dark outside and the surrounding objects produced a gray blur. Including the man crouching on the chair beside the bed. Brendan winced in terror that Johnson had come to finish what he had started. He tried to get up, but was unable to move a muscle, and kept still in the torpor of drugs and the grayness of the room. The man squeezed lightly his arm, for calming him down, then turned on the light. The guy had neither the grin nor the bald head as Johnson, but he was about sixty, red hair, too many chins, friendly look in spite of his job.

It was Elijah Wesley, the prison deputy director.

Brendan could barely keep his eyes open and someone had already come to pump him.

"Before you waste your breath to tell me that it was an accident, I'm gonna list what happened to you." The man stood up and began counting on his fingers. "Broken ribs, fracture to right hand, broken nose, head injuries, to-"

"I fell down" interrupted him Brendan with a faint voice.

"Torn rectum " Wesley concluded. "Apparently you fell straight on a broomstick."

The memory of that violence turned into a fire ball in his head. Tears came down and he could not control them.

"The floor was wet," he replied, his voice growing hoarse. The effort to hold his sobs back cost him terrible stinging to the rib cage.

Wesley nodded with a mumble, then walked to him pointing Brendan's right arm. On his cross tattoo there was a bandage. That area burned like fire too.

"Of course," he went on, lightly touching the bandages, "you had nothing better to do and you've done a incision on your own."

Brendan frowned. "What incision?"

"Someone found funny to remind you who you are."

Brendan shook his head slightly. "I don't remember," he said.

Then he tried to turn his head to the other side, at least for hiding his tears, but pain was too strong, so strong that choking even his humiliation and the bud of his anger.

"Brady ... Brendan... son "continued the man with pleading tone. "I need to know who did it. They must be punished. Also, they used a weapon, a knife, whatever. I'd answer for this to my superiors."

Brendan snorted a bitter sneer. As if it were a novelty all that usually happened in the prisons!

"I don't remember anything," he repeated, swallowing tears.

"Right," said Wesley. "You have a fortnight's time to get your memory back. It's in your best interest. "

.

.

Brendan remained twenty days in the hospital and two weeks in the prison's sickroom to recover fully his own shape. When he went back in his cell the only sign of the aggression was the word "FAG" engraved in his flesh.

Wesley had obviously passed a couple times to question him, or at least he had tried to, but he got only a stubborn silence, as usual.

It was so long Brendan did not speak with anyone that he had almost forgotten the sound of his own voice. He tried to remember it, but all that came to him was Johnson who shouted his henchmen: _hold him down!_

He was flooded with intense anger, but he dismissed it as a annoying thing that numbed his thoughts. He needed to keep calm, instead, be detached. No revenge would have made him get the wanted results under the devastating fury of feelings.

In. Out. In. Out.

The air flowed in and out of his lungs at a steady pace and he was proud of himself as he heard his pulse slow down. Steven would have been dead proud of him as well, if he could have seen Brendan at that time.

While he was staring at the ceiling, finally he fell asleep. However, his sleep was populated by nightmares, as if they hadn't been enough until then, and once again he woke up out of breath and drenched in sweat after a very realistic dream. So realistic that he had probed the walls of his cell in the dark to make sure where he was. When he tried to put together the dream sequence all that he remembered was Steven's face, as bruised as the last time he had seen it, and guys who had got Johnson's face and Seamus' voice. Brendan didn't want to see again any of those unpleasant images, so he spent the rest of the night working out his plan. When morning came he felt stunned by a low hum in his head, but he was hungrier than ever, in compensation, and full with a wild joy that made him shake from head to toe. The next day was Sunday, with bacon, library and everything.

.

.

Brendan didn't usually make friends. In all his life, the only men he had bonded with he had bedded them or he would have liked to.

In prison the theoretical construct of friendship was worth even less. From fellow prisoners, at most, you could want their silence, or at least their butt out. Brendan had just on his side his crimes he was condemned for, which made him pretty frightening to the most of people, except Johnson. The bully, instead, had a quite impressive strength and a body as massive as a mountain, but also the giant of giants was nothing without anyone to cover his back. Plus, Johnson was a week away from the end of his imprisonment and no one would have liked to stay with someone who would soon disappeared from the scene instead of someone else who had to be locked up there for the rest of their life

During the days in hospital, when he was more dead than alive, Brendan had done nothing but think of a plan to take revenge and the answer to his prayers had come by chance, when he remembered Johnson used to buy cocaine inside the common showers. Brendan had followed the pusher. The latter was a little guy, sickly look, but smart enough to know, with a single glance at Brendan, who had to walk away from there at the speed of light. Brendan entered the bathroom and closed the door.

Johnson was found by the clean-up crew in the evening. He was hidden in the last cubicle with his head smashed against the tiles. Unfortunately he was still alive, but Brendan doubted that he would ever wake up from a coma. There was no evidence against him, but Brendan, inexplicably, found himself in the van that would lead him to Strangeways, after a couple of days.

He accepted that news with a shrug.

He had been so many times in the middle of the hell that its flames couldn't touch him anymore.


	3. Home - part 1

**Why have I got so few reviews?**

**a) You don't like my story**

**b) you don't like the chapter**

**c) my English is so lousy that's not worth any comments**

**d)You're not interested; etc etc**

**In any case, I think it's wise to stop writing**

**What do you think about it? **

**Anyway thank to the guest for reviewing, while to the 200 silent readers: please, tell me what is wrong. Otherwise, I can't improve. Thank you in advance.**

**Fews words of explanation about this chapter: in the first one I wrote Ste had broken his partnership with Doug, but in the light of current events in the show, Ste continues to work at the deli.**

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**Chapter 2**

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**Home**

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**part 1**

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**.**

_Take me, take me, home._

_'cause I don't stand a chance in these four walls._

_And he don't recognise me anymore._

_Burned out flames should never re-ignite._

_But I thought you might..._

_Take me, take me, home._

_Take me, take me, home._

_Now he's moving close,_

_My heart in my throat._

_I won't say a word,_

_But I think he knows..._

_that I've hardly slept,_

_since the night he left._

_His body always kept,_

_mine inside of it._

_Keep the nightmares out,_

_give me mouth to mouth._

_I can't live without ya,_

_take me to your house._

_._

_._

_._

_Present day._

Ste walked toward the deli, yawning once in a while. The night before, Freddie had come and taken his share of the profits, and so, a beer after another, they had stayed up late. He was so tired that the recall from his bed was screaming in his head, forcing him to wonder why the hell he had waken up so early for a job no longer thrilling. Force of habit, he said to himself, as he pulled the door handle. Once inside, he leaned his forehead against the glass door, stifling the umpteenth yawn and preparing himself for Doug's inevitable rant about his state.

"Mr. Hay?"

That certainly wasn't Doug.

Ste turned slowly.

"Good morning, Mr. Hay. I'm DI-"

"I know who you are!" Ste cut him off gruffly.

He was the man who had arrested Brendan six months ago.

Ste felt the blood drain away from his face. He wouldn't be surprised if he looked as pale as a ghost; in the meantime, he clutched the handle until his knuckles turned completely white. His eyes darted to Doug who was staring at him worriedly behind the kitchen counter. In those few moments Ste's first impulse was to reopen the door and escape wherever his legs would lead him, but he realized he was completely paralyzed by fear.

"Mr. Hay, we have a few questions for you."

"Yeah," he replied.

His voice was a weak chirp. Guilty.

"It's about Brendan, Ste" said Doug, his eyes were trying to send him a sort of strange signals.

Ste found himself to let out all the breath he had been holding until then, but at the same time the fear of being smoked out by the cops was replaced by anxiety.

"Something happened to Brendan?" The inspector looked at him, frowning. "Tell me that didn't happen anything to him. Please ".

"He knows nothing, I told you that" said Doug to the inspector.

Ste felt a sudden chill, despite the summer heat.

"What happened to him?" He asked again in frenzied tone.

The most terrible scenarios took shape in his mind; in the meantime, Doug had come out of the kitchen and rushed to his side, handing him a copy of the Chester Herald.

Ste tried to focus on the pictures and the words, but the latter seemed to have taken on a life of its own and started waving before his eyes, chaotic. However, everything quickly became clear as soon as he saw a picture of Brendan, with a moustache, and the word 'escaped' in the bold title.

So, he understood.

Ste felt his legs soft and flopped down on the couch on the left, still holding the newspaper as if his life depended on it.

He was out. Brendan wasn't any longer in prison. He tried to read quickly the last part of the article again to be sure he had not misunderstood. There was a injured man. One of the three fugitives had been shot. It could be Brendan?

Tears misted over his eyes thinking about that dire possibility.

"Mr. Hay?"

The inspector tried to catch his attention again and Ste felt almost grateful to him for ripping out the horrible images that were shaping before his eyes.

"We should check your house."

Ste looked at him, gaping, as if the man spoke another language.

"Why?"

"We should be sure that Brendan Brady has not gotten in touch with you."

Ste restrained his impulse to smile. Brendan would come to see him, despite being up shit creek. The inspector knew, the officer at his side knew, and for the way he was staring at Ste, Doug as well. But the truth was that Brendan had not come, not yet.

Of course he didn't, because Brendan was seriously injured, said a little voice in his head, the malignant one that he hated most.

But Ste also tried to listen to the other voice, the one that kept saying that Brendan hadn't contacted him yet because it was hard, simply that.

"Let's go, then?"

The inspector stared at him impatiently

"Where?"

"Your place, Mr. Hay. We're going with our patrol car."

Ste thought of the money in the cookie box and the pills under the mattress.

"You're gonna search my flat, ain't ya?"

"Just a peek" pointed out the man.

"You got a warrant?" asked Ste again

"Given the urgency we could get it later in the day, but we'll prefer to be invited by you now."

Ste shifted his gaze towards Doug, standing next to him. They had not been very close each other lately. Ste had begun to find irritating everything about that place: the deli, customers, John Paul McQueen, who used to spend more time in there than in any other part of the globe, and even Doug irritated him, just for the fact of being in the midst of it all, But he knew that Doug cared about him the most of times.

Later, Doug would have given him an immeasurable good telling-off, but at that moment he was on Ste's side and was nodding slightly to make him know that a hasty visit now was better than a deep search a few hours later.

"Right," said Ste, standing on his unsteady legs . "Let's go."

Once at home, he could read a kind of revulsion on officers' faces. His flat, at that moment, wasn't exactly a clean and tidy place. And if he himself was able to smell the stink from the neglected bathroom and pots and plates lying in the kitchen sink, he could figure out that for anyone else was as getting down in the asshole of the hell.

Ste tried to think about some convincing excuses:

_I did a party last night._

_I was rather ill in recent days._

Do you know elves? I go to bed and everything is quiet and tidy, but every morning I wake up in this chaos.

Ste picked up some cartons from the floor, folded and put them in a plastic bag, atop a mountain of trash.

The inspector motioned him to stop.

"Don't worry, Mr. Hay. We're going to bother you for just a few minutes"

Ste was asked to lead them to the other rooms, and he tried not to think about the drugs hidden under the mattress in the bedroom.

Fortunately, the inspector seemed more interested in the bathroom and Ste heard him mutter, not knowing if it was for disgust or not finding what he was looking for.

The two men were about to leave. Ste took courage and asked his question, the most pressing of all.

"Can you tell me if Brendan was wounded?"

The inspector glanced at him with a bored air.

"Please."

"We don't know."

"But the blood" he insisted. He didn't know much about it, but he had seen so many action movies in his life that he could brag to know a little about the issue. "You gotta know who belongs to."

The man sighed and was silent for a little as weighing the information in possession.

"From the analyzes performed, the blood could belong to each of them." The man saw the confusion on the face of Ste and explained better as if he were talking to a retarded child. "Weirdly all of them have the same blood type."

Ste nodded in silence, but inside he felt his guts knotting.

"I'm sorry," added the inspector a second before crossing the threshold.

Ste clouded, hiding a grimace of disgust. One thing he had well learned, in his troubled life, was his ability to read inside people, and policeman's eyes weren't sorry at all.

The man turned suddenly as if at that moment he had remembered of an important thing.

"Mr. Hay, I'd like remind you not to do anything stupid and, please, get in touch to the police as soon as possible if Brady came here. For the record... the police is rather busy to look for the other two of them. Their escape is close to provoke a diplomatic incident".

"Are they dangerous ... I mean... the others?"

The man sighed, staring at him intently. "The less dreadful of two is responsible for at least sixty murders, for all we know. Does he look quite dangerous to you? "

Ste swallowed his own saliva, with another question stuck on the tip of his tongue, but it remained unspoken and so he stayed to watch, dazed, the two men leaving his flat and the door close behind them.

Once alone, images of Brendan in a pool of blood flashed in his head.

And among those agonizing images, even other ones came back to him, merciless, concerning those western movies' when a horse got lame and its owner used to shoot it.

That was the point. If Brendan had been like that lame horse, he was finished. And Ste's soul would die with him. Or at least what was left of it.

His knees suddenly collapsed on the floor, under the weight of those gloomy thoughts, and he burst into tears.

Later, Ste warned Doug he would stay at home. Doug perfectly understood his mood, but Ste had not told him the real reason. Finally, he decided to clean his flat and, while he was taking away the mess, he prepared a lightweight bag with his most necessary things. If Brendan would have come to him, Ste would have been ready to run away with him. Because this time - the sky could have exploded into millions of fragments - he wouldn't have let anyone take Brendan away from him again.


	4. Home - part 2

**Dear readers and reviewers, you have no idea how much I'm happy and more and more determined to complete this fiction as soon as possibile. I need to read your reviews to do it. So, thank all of you who fuel my ego.**

**I'd like to make a clarification, especially to my Italian friends, I know there are someone of them who's following me. In Italy there's the Mafia, Camorra etc., we can't deny it, but Sicily and Campania (where I come from) are also lands full of people with a big heart and heroes, dead in the name of freedom and justice, so that none of my Sicilian friends feel offended (it was none of my intentions) for the fact I mentioned their land, which is beautiful and full of wonderful people.**

**For everyone, I've got no maps of Hollyoaks, so I imagined it all.**

**Enjoy the chapter and please continue to show me your love.**

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**.**

**Chapter 2**

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**Home**

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**Part 2**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_**Two days ago**_

_A gunshot. Another._

_Pain._

_God!_

_Why are not you here with me?_

_Darkness._

Brendan cautiously opened his eyes and slowly began to move his head, his arm, the other one, as he found himself sitting in the midst of a bush, thick grass and undergrowth, his fingers sinking into the cold and wet ground.

His first thought was that he had apparently no broken bones. He turned around and nearby saw the man with which he had rolled down to the bottom of the scarp. That man had been his salvation.

Brendan did not feel proud of having used him as a human shield against the bullets directed at him, but that man was part of the group that wanted Brendan to die, so he felt less guilty for his action and more grateful to his own survival instinct.

He crouched down and began to shake the guy's shoulder. He didn't know his name, he didn't know anything about him, but if the guy was in the van for Strangeways, he certainly wasn't a saint.

The man moved slightly, moaning. He was still alive.

As Brendan turned the guy on his back, his hands stained of blood. His tracksuit as well.

The guy had taken bullets directed at Brendan and was bleeding. Too much. Damn.

His head was telling him to leave him to the mercy of fate. His conscience to do everything possible to save him.

He bitterly smiled at the thought that he still had a conscience, buried somewhere deep inside him.

He looked up at the edge of the scarp. It had been a bloody slipped and he was lucky not to have anything broken, but the men who had attacked the van and killed the guards in cold blood could still be in the vicinity. The guy would have been a burden to his escape, just as Brendan was for their at first.

It had been a miracle as he had understood their intentions in advance, despite they spoke an incomprehensible language. He had tried to remember the few words of Italian, French or Spanish he knew, put them together and give them a meaning, but their language had sounded like an alien code to him.

He had been just lucky, because he had never felt death so close to him, so that he could had felt its icy breath brushing his neck

After the assault, Brendan was unceremoniously thrown into another van. One of the attackers had been shot and another was struggling to stop his bleeding.

He understood that the two prisoners were in collusion. He had imagined from the start of their transfer, as he had heard them talking in that strange language, a dialect of their land most likely; plus, one of the two, the one who was now lying on the ground beside him, had a servile attitude towards the other, as if he were subordinate to him. Luckily, all of them had gotten their chain broken, but only the two prison fellows had new clothes and changed quickly. In their plan Brendan was superfluous; his radar antennas had started beeping insistently in the danger zone since then.

At one point, the van had stopped next to a wood and there he had definitely realised to be doomed.

Brendan had come out alive and uninjured, but had no clue where the hell he was at that moment. Maybe halfway between Liverpool and Manchester. He heard a word alike to Liverpool mentioned several times. But now he felt completely disoriented and had no fucking idea how to pull through.

_One thing at a time_, he started repeating in his mind.

First of all he had to looking for a way his fellow in pain stopped bleeding and praying he was able to walk.

Brendan ha managed to get some bandages, tearing the guy's shirt. One of the bullets had entered and come out of the shoulder, but the other one had stuck somewhere in his ribs and, as far as he knew, it could also have perforated a vital organ of his. Despite that, his legs looked good.

"Hey, mate," he tried not to be rude. "We need to move away from here. Can you get up? "

"_Nun parru ngrisi_" said the man in his strange language. (Sicilian* - I don't speak English)

The man had more or less the same Brendan's constitution, but it felt like he had twice his weight at that moment. Brendan succeeded hardly to lift him up, grabbing under his good arm. The man didn't scream in pain and Brendan thanked heaven for that.

As they were walking - only God knew where - Brendan tried to have a little chat with him. He knew it was useless, but he would at least have made him sure that the man was still alert and conscious.

"What's your name?" He asked at one point.

"_Nun parru ngrisi_" replied the guy.

Brendan was sure it wasn't that his name and asked him again.

"Your name," said slowly. "Tuo nome," he repeated in Italian.

He saw a slight smile on guy's sweaty and pale face. Finally he answered with another word and Brendan was sure it was the right one.

"Carmelo".

"Jesus!" exclaimed Brendan. "This remind me someone I know."

He snort a laugh, imagining the black haired and bearded man with a blonde wig.

The man frowned at him.

"Never mind" he said quickly.

Carmelo hadn't asked him his name and Brendan considered saying it superfluous

In the meantime, Brendan's mind flew back to the past, when he had exploited Carmel McQueen for his business trips and at the same time was searching for a way to get into Steven's pants. Brendan would have given everything he could for resetting all that had happened and go back. No drugs, no closet and, first off, never beating Steven.

God! He should have been born again, in another place, in another family.

At one point the guy beside him started stumbling and moaning. Brendan realized they needed to stop walking immediately.

He helped Carmelo to sit down on the ground and laid him with his back against a log.

The man sighed and closed his eyes. He looked much paler than before.

"Ho sete," he said a few minutes later. (Italian* – I'm thirsty)

"What?"

Carmelo smacked his lips. "Drink... drink ".

Brendan finally understood, but where looking for water?

He stifled a roar. That was one of the men who were about to kill Brendan and now he had to care of him. Was that perhaps his punishment?

"Okay," he said, standing up, hoping he could find something, a stream, a spring, a puddle, whatever. "Don't go anywhere."

Brendan didn't want to sound ironic, but if he had no longer seen Carmelo under that tree for whatever reason, he wouldn't have anything to complain about .

He walked picking a random direction and sticking some twigs into the ground along his way for making sure to find easily the path back. Around ten minutes later, he heard water flowing somewhere and he hardly believed his luck. The water gushed from a crack in a boulder, forming streams in the ground. They weren't going to die of thirst. How to take it seemed to be the only problem, since his lips had almost to cling to the rock for drinking it a bit. He hoped Carmelo would also have been able to.

When he turned for going back to him, he noticed a glow behind some branches and instinctively flattened himself to the ground, hiding in vegetation. He laid down motionlessly and breathlessly for a few seconds, waiting for any kind of noise or someone popping out any moment; instead, everything around him stayed silent, apart from the typical sounds of nature.

In the end, he decided to run the risk and cast a peek through the thick interweaving of branches.

Brendan gasped and his heart started beating wildly.

There was a cabin, abandoned-looking, completely immersed in the rich vegetation. The glow he had seen was due to the reflection of the sun on the glass fragments where windows should have been.

It had been a long time since he had been in that place, but he had no doubt.

He was back in Hollyoaks. He was back home.

Brendan took in a deep breath and let tears streaming down his face, as he went to inspect the cabin making sure it was abandoned as it seemed. Probably for months it was no longer visited and plants had covered it so as to turn it into a natural element. Soon later, he headed to Carmelo with a renewed hope.

Brendan tried to set a comfortable bed for the wounded man and found some empty bottles that someone had left. He gloated in satisfaction to see that they were covered with a considerable layer of dust, he did a little less when he had to wash them thoroughly in order to reuse them. Finally, they had got water.

Trouble, however, were not ended. They had no food, unless they had began to eat nettles and mushrooms (he wasn't even capable to recognise edible mushrooms from the poisonous ones ), or catch a few rabbits and eat raw meat. The mere thought made him shiver. And even if they had decided to run the risk, how long they could pull through, not to mention that Carmelo would die without proper care? All that at best, of course. The worst part was that they could be nabbed by the police again before they had started suffering from starvation.

The truth was that he couldn't see any solutions. On the one hand he had the freedom and no means to enjoy it, on the other hand life imprisonment.

Meanwhile, it had gotten dark and cold.

Carmelo had fallen asleep among his moans.

_One thing at a time_, he started to repeat himself again.

Brendan knew that the cabin was near the village about ten minutes by car, but walking down the path leading to the park would take only twice as long. He could wait a few hours and go down to the village, get food, maybe some clothes.

_He could drop in on Steven_

Brendan quickly drove that dumb idea out of his mind. He had pushed the boy away so that the latter could have rebuilded his life. He could not get in it again as if nothing had happened, just because he needed help.

_He needed him._

No way. There were other solutions. There had to.

Brendan was too tired to think about anything, so he decided to follow Carmelo's example and sleep on.

The next morning, Brendan woke up shortly after dawn due to Carmelo's moans. He got up with his back sore and his stomach rumbling with hunger. He checked the wounds and saw that neither they look so terrible, nor were the picture of health. Brendan washed and put the bandages to dry, then took what was left of the shirt and made others of them, however he could not help but think that, without adequate antibiotics, Carmelo would have gone within a few days.

Brendan spent the next several hours looking for berries and roots, but hunger didn't appease. Plus, Carmelo's suffering and moaning heightened. When the day ended, he decided he would not have passed another like that. He needed to get food and medicine. He was in a blind-alley, so the only thing he had to do was go down to the village.

He was aware that it was a stupid idea, but staying to rot in that cabin wasn't a solution to his problems. As Carmelo fallen asleep, he began to implement his plan. The man had had a windbreaker along with his new clothes and Brendan took it to mask his face and blood-stained sweatshirt. He covered Carmelo with a few newspapers that he had found scattered on the floor, to avoid that during his absence the man died by cold.

Fortunately, there was a full moon that night. But even without that, Brendan would have found his way home just following instinct. As soon as he saw the first lights, he got all his blood boiling in his veins and he began to run, run and run more and more until he arrived at the park.

He was out of breath, but certainly not just for running. A tumult of emotions was unleashing inside of him, because the place before his eyes was the one where he had lived the most incredible and shocking moments of his life, those that would marked him forever.

Over there, he had let off the best and worst of his soul and left his shattered heart.

Brendan started slowly walking again, the jacket zipping up to his mouth and the hood up to his eyes, his hands in the pockets, bringing with him the rustling sound of leaves toward the heart of the village.

Hollyoaks was not as he remembered, yet it had been just six months.

At every step, he was breathing a strange atmosphere, dark and desolate. Walking by the Dog in the pond, he was surprised that the pub was already closed and grates had appeared on the windows of adjacent dwellings, which would have made them crack open impossible, having no tools in his hands. No residents in the street.

Curiosity pushed him to go on over toward the village centre where he kept breathing the same atmosphere of gloomy desolation.

He thought it was much later than he had calculated, yet his inside watch indicated that it should have been around two o'clock. When his eyes fell on Chez Chez, closed and without its bright pink sign, he felt a sudden pang of sadness.

The Carter & Hay, however, was still there, unchanged. The pang became more intense and painful. His mind began to throw up images over images of his old life in that place, and Steven took up all them. It hurt.

He would not have had to indulge in memories and regrets, so he decided to go back where he came from, maybe he could have taken an alternative way and break open a vending machine for drinks and snacks. A sudden voice startled him, and so he hastened in direction of the alley that had crossed earlier.

There were at least a couple of guys. They stopped right out of the entrance.

Brendan was able to heard only some word including drugs and money, and realized that certain things would have never changed.

He didn't like the idea of going shopping, especially when his mug shots could be put up everywhere, at that point, but at the same time the idea of easy money in his pocket, to use as he saw fit, dispelled every reticence. Brendan hoped to trip only one of them, though, otherwise he should have given up on the plan. So he stayed motionlessly at the end of the alley, hiding behind the brick wall, his face well hidden and the body ready to spring into action.

At one point, when the wait had become spasmodic, he heard footsteps coming in his own direction.

Quick and silent, like a predator in the jungle, he prevailed on the guy thanks to the surprise effect, his face pressed against the wall and his arm twisted behind his back.

"Gimme everything ye have," he hissed in his ear.

The guy tried to react and Brendan was forced to knock him down, smashing it to the floor under his weight. Fortunately the guy was young and much more subtle.

"I said ... Give me everything you have, " he repeated in a more hard and threatening tone.

Brendan kept pushing the drug dealer's head on the floor in order to prevent him from screaming, while with his free hand began to rummage for the money. Bingo!

Brendan found it as soon as his hand sank into the pocket of the guy's sweatshirt. He considered himself very lucky, because he could have found the commodity. And in that moment of his life he didn't know what to do with drugs.

Brendan moved from above the guy, releasing him. He had gotten what he wanted and he would have bet his own balls that the guy was not going to run and scream for help through the village.

"Good boy," he murmured, slowly stroking behind his head, then stood up, ready to fly through unknown and darkness.

The guy turned around to face him with a shocked look under the shadow of his hood.

"Brendan!"


	5. Touch - part 1

**Thanks to SiaLily, kylikki, BradyBabe, AmberScanlan1234, runningshoes39, carolynsil and the lovely guest for the appreciation, by now you know how much it means to me. You're helping me to write better and faster, maybe too much fast, insomuch that I've decided to post this chapter tonight even if I'm not sure it's correct.**

**Anyway... enjoy and don't forget to review, please. It's very important!**

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**Chapter 3**

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**Touch**

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**part 1**

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_Love hunt me down_

_I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes_

_And feed me spark me up_

_A creature in my blood stream choose me up_

_So I can feel something_

_Give me touch_

_'Cause I've been missing it_

_I'm dreaming of_

_Strangers_

_Kissing me in the night_

_Just so I_

_Can feel something_

_You steal me away_

_With your eyes and with your mouth_

_And just take me back to in your house_

_And stare at me with the lights off_

_To feel something_

_In the night_

_When we touch_

_In the night_

_'Cause I've been lusting it_

_[Touch – Daughter]_

_._

_._

_._

"Brendan"

His voice.

A sound that he hadn't been hearing for months, days he had wondered if he would have ever heard it again, nights he had hoped to dream about it, and then he had thought back on it in the morning, over and over, in order to firm up the details in his mind until the end of his time.

"Brendan"

Steven kept repeating his name in a more and more dim tone, as if some kind of mysterious force had begun to suck air from his throat. Yet, even if muffled, that sound was familiar, sweet. Brendan should have said something, but his voice seemed completely gone. He could not even take a step, move a muscle. Was he dreaming? Probably.

Steven was in front of him at one point, a few inches where they breathed the same air part between each other's noses and mouths. Eyes shining in the half-darkness, lips trembling.

Then his arms clung to Brendan's shoulders, strong as tongs, digging in his skin.

Finally, wakening.

Brendan felt the force, that had frozen him a handful of eternal seconds before, let him off and start blowing air into him, so strongly that his lungs could not find their room in his chest. The blood started flowing mad in his circulatory system, his heart beating a very fast pace. His arms slowly lifted and wrapped around Steven's back, in silence. Then he laid his forehead on his shoulder, the force of gravity suddenly unbearable, an unexplained pain in the pit of his stomach as Steven whispered in his ear: "let's go home".

And Brendan followed him, hand in hand, as if he had never left him.

.

.

.

Brendan flopped himself down on the old couch with a exhausted sigh, eyes closed. Steven had replaced his puzzled air with a smile that seemed not to want to go away.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, as he rubbed his own fingers.

Brendan opened his eyes and began to look at him intently, sliding his look from head to toe.

"What?"

"Whatever," said Steven, tilting his head on his shoulder and continuing to smile at him.

There were so many things he needed at that moment, so many that he didn't know where to start. He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back. Soon later he heard Steven's footsteps getting closer and a plop beside him, then gentle fingers through his hair, dirty for dry sweat and dust, a stroke to his beard and finally a warm breath on his lips.

Brendan opened his eyes suddenly and pulled himself away, noticing a flash of disappointment in Steven's eyes.

"My breath" he began, "it been ages since I didn't have a wash and-"

Steven quickly laid a peck on his lips, his smile suddenly appeared again like a rainbow after the rain.

"You know how much I don't care about it," he said, without stopping to stroke his face, then dropped his head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply the skin on his neck.

"Steven... stop... please "

Brendan stood up suddenly, pushing Steven's hands away. The feelings of that first contact after months were too intense, so much that he was afraid to collapse at any moment.

"Right," said Ste, standing up too. "You wanna take a bath?"

He nodded with a slight grateful smile. He would have had a little time to reflect indeed.

Ste walked him up to the bathroom's door. It was a good thing that had cleaned his home to perfection. The impact would have been extremely embarrassing otherwise.

Then he entered the bedroom and quickly opened the closet.

Since the police took Brendan away, six months before, the most part of his things had gone with him, but some of them had left and had made Brendan's absence even more unbearable. At first he had also kept his electric toothbrush in charge, as if he had moved away for a short trip, and had held his favorite jam in the fridge until it had formed a thick layer of greenish mold on the surface. In the end, he had realised Brendan wouldn't have returned not anytime soon nor ever, and so he had removed the toothbrush from the wall socket, had thrown the jam in the garbage pail and taken his clothes out of the drawers, putting them in a travel bag with reverential care.

Ste opened the bag, hoping to find Brendan's clothes in same conditions in which he had left them. He picked some blue jeans and a black long sleeve T-shirt, and put them under his nose to check they had not taken a strange smell. He smiled in satisfaction when he realized they still smelled fresh and clean instead. Finally, he picked some socks and boxer among his own.

.

.

.

That was not the reality. Being in Steven's bathtub, surrounded by scented lavender bubbles was not what he would have expected a half hour before. His reaction hadn't even been real as well, because his heart had instead yelled to tighten and kiss Steven enough to leave him breathless. But he hadn't done that. Because the reality was another story. No prospect of a happy life ahead, only misery and the tangible chance to be recaptured at any moment.

Steven should have convinced himself that he had to offer even less than last time. Practically nothing.

"Brendan?"

Steven knocked on the door, waited a few seconds and then went inside the bathroom. Brendan had a brief comforting flashback of their old intimacy, when they were used to doing everything together to economize time, from using the toilet to brushing their teeth.

He sank a little more in the water in order to hide the horrific scar on his right arm, then turned his head toward him.

"Sorry, Bren..." Steven put down some towels on a chair. "There are some clothes onto the bed. I think you must be hungry, but I've practically nothing in the house. I'm gonna get something from the deli. It won't be long."

Brendan nodded with a mumble and Steven's smile in reply was so warm and bright that he felt his heart skip more than a beat.

Later, Brendan wiped himself summarily and then put on the blue bathrobe hanging behind the door; the smell of lavender and Steven on his skin. He let himself cuddle by that aphrodisiac combination for a few minutes, then dressed with the clothes that Steven had prepared. It was like getting the old self back. Roughly.

He walked to the kitchen. Steven had not yet returned from the deli and he tried to kill time and the grumble into his stomach making his way to the fridge. Steven was right. Besides half-empty tube of mayonnaise, two withered tomatoes and a can of beer, there was nothing else. He grabbed the beer and was lost in the sensation of deliciously bitter taste that he didn't feel in ages. He needed to be something solid, though. He walked purposefully toward the sink where, he remembered, a box was always full with cookies, the ones with chocolate chips that Steven expressly prepared for him at the old times.

His eyes wide opened astonished on the content: neither biscuits nor a sliver of chocolate. He poured it all on the table, then pulled the money out of Carmelo's windbreaker, and dropped it on the pile, and finally began to count.

Steven came back when he had arrived around half of that. Ninety thousand pounds.

.

_What was that? Tell me it's not what I'm thinking about._

_I just did a favor for a friend._

_A friend? Douggie has started pushing drugs again?_

_It's not Doug. You don't know him._

_Mmm._

_It was just one-off. I swear._

_._

Brendan gave up on counting the banknotes and started staring straight into his eyes, a sharp line instead of his lips.

"Brendan," he muttered, his skin was changing color at those dense and heavy moments.

Brendan got up from the table and walked over to him, breathing heavily as if wanted to repress all the yelling in the world.

"You said that last night was the first and last time. You lied to me. "

"Brendan ... I can explain. "

But since those first words Brendan had understood that whatever Steven's excuse would have been useless.

He could not be a drug dealer, not after all that had happened.

He rubbed his face nervously. He wanted to slap himself, pull his beard out with his bare hands. He wanted to scream.

Ste put the trays with the food down on the table next to money and tried to hold Brendan's hand in his own, but he walked away with an angry gesture.

"Brendan ... I ... I just wanted to have enough money to buy the Chez Chez. "

Brendan stared at him, puzzled. It wasn't what he expected.

"Why?"

"Why? I wanted to have something of yours that reminded me of you. "

Brendan rubbed his forehead as if trying to make sense of what he had just listened to.

"Why didn't you ask? I'd have given you it. "

Ste snorted sarcastically.

"Right. You'd have given me that, because you've got the power to do everything, as ignoring my visits in prison, my letters. "

"We talked about it the last time we saw each other. We decided that it was better that way. "

Ste's eyes flared up in a moment.

"WE? YOU decided to cut me off from your life! "

"And so you had no alternative but pushing drugs?"

Ste took in a deep breath, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Course I had. I wanted to die. "

Brendan fell silent, his own panting was the only fact in the void of his thoughts.

"And now take a seat and eat!" said Ste hard.

The clock on the wall said a quarter past three.

.

.

.

Brendan had lost all of a sudden the hunger that had been tormenting him for forty-eight hours, but he had forced himself to eat the great food because he needed strength and mental alertness for thinking about what to do next.

Steven had been glancing at him in silence all the time, his arms folded, to make sure that he ended even the crumbs.

"Better?"

Brendan nodded. He felt reborn, and even calmer.

Ste took away and put the dirty dishes in the sink.

"I ... I no longer need to do that "he was obviously talking about drugs. "Now I have you."

"What do you mean?"

Ste spun around, furrowing his brows.

"Steven" continued Brendan, "There is no us anymore, you know."

Ste reached him sitting next to him and grabbing his hands above the surface of the table, in a desperate grasp.

"I've prepared everything," he said agitated. "We can run away tonight. I don't care where, I want just to stay with you. "

"Steven" Brendan's face contorted into a bitter sneer. "I'm a wanted man, it's not a holiday to the South Seas."

"I know, Brendan. Don't think I'm a stupid. "

"You're not stupid, Steven. Just unrealistic. "

Ste shook his head, fighting back the tears knocking violently behind his eyes.

"You don't love me anymore"

It was not a question. Brendan remained silent.

Ste jumped up suddenly, leaving his hands.

"You promised me you wouldn't have felt anything different for me. What's changed? "

Ste leaned back against the wall, hitting it incessantly with the back of his head.

"What's changed?" he repeated in sobs. "What's changed?"

Brendan reached out and grabbed his face with both hands, blocking the blows against the wall to prevent he hurt.

"Me, Steven. I've changed" he said finally.

"Don't you love me anymore, do ya?"

Brendan shook his head slowly. "Nothing could make me stop loving you, Steven. Remember? "

Ste raised a wet smile.

"But there's nothing you can do to change my mind," added Brendan.

"And you can't compel me to give up on you this time," replied Ste with a harsh tone. "I won't do it."

"You will. For your sake. "

"Don't tell me that!" Ste shouted, shoving him angrily.

Brendan felt the composure that he had tried to keep until then burst like a fire bubble in his chest. And, the next moment, he found himself out of breath, a hand holding Steven nailed to the wall and the other one raised midair.

Ste lifted his chin as a sign of defiance, staring straight into his eyes.

"Come on, Brendan. Hit me!" he hissed, the hand pressing against his chest as a mark. "You could convince me to leave you alone... just try hard... very hard. Just this could-"

Brendan dropped his raised hand down around Ste's throat, squeezing his jaws strong enough to stop spilling those venomous words. Ste closed his eyes and waited.

He reopened them as he heard the front door closing.

In the air, Brendan's smell floated like a lost shadow.


	6. Touch - part 2

**Two news: the bad news is that I haven't got my computer, the good news is that I used my son's one, but I had no time of reading the chapter, I hope there aren't more mistakes than usual. Thank you so much to those who reviewed, read or added this story as a fav, I would like to know your opinion, even if just two words. Pleeeease!**

**About this chapter. When you read a smut chapter you can react in several ways: disturbing, boring or interesting. I wish you enjoy mine.**

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**Chapter 3**

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**Touch**

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**part 2**

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"I won't let you go again, Brendan Brady!"

In an impulse of rage, Ste rushed to the front door, opening it straight before his target.

He froze to the spot with his fists still clenched.

Brendan was curled up in a ball on the lower steps of the stairs that leaded to upstairs, the head buried in his hands and sobs that shook his shoulders.

Ste's anger faded in a breath.

He crouched, touching Brendan's knees with his own, lifting his chin.

Brendan was trembling, sobbing without tears.

"Come inside," whispered Ste

Brendan shook his head, then with a desperate groan said: "forgive me."

"Whatever you want, just come with me now."

He looked up at Ste. "Did you forgive me?" he asked in a surprised tone.

Ste let out a tired sigh and nodded.

"You shouldn't" replied Brendan, frowning. "I don't deserve it."

"Stop saying bullshit!"

Ste planted a kiss on Brendan's lips, lingering on them, and let his mind wander back to his best memories, the ones that had never abandoned him, in spite of everything.

Brendan closed his eyes, moaning in his own mouth slightly open.

Ste felt Brendan's hesitation while chills ran along his back.

"What's up?" he asked, panting on Brendan's lips.

Brendan looked at him straight in the eye with a worrying intensity.

"What are you doing, Steven?" he asked.

Ste licked his lips, then took his own bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes that dazzled under his long eyelashes

"Try to guess," he replied in a hoarse whisper .

"Steven ... I don't think-"

Ste cut him off with a soft kiss, open lips, his knee slowly making its way between Brendan's legs.

"Stev-"

Brendan stopped resisting at that right moment, because nothing in the world, not even fear of dying, could have contrasted what Steven had always been able to do to his brain, passion, desire, the taste of his kisses, hot sighs that filled Brendan's ears along with his heart, that heated him up more than a fire ever could, satisfied his appetite more than a mountain of food. Steven made him feel more and more as a man than the monster he was.

Brendan suddenly got up, nailing Ste to the wall beside the door, and Ste gasped at first in surprise, then groaned in joy for that change of scenario, because Brendan looked definitely like the same old self at that right moment and wanted his Steven back, as much as Steven wanted him.

Ste stepped back into the flat, driven by Brendan's ardour, without their lips drew apart, and finally closed the door.

Brendan could no longer control himself. All those past months without being able to taste Steven's skin, his mouth, without feeling his hands that could carry him up to heaven with a simple little touch, had been his actual punishment.

"I want you, Steven... I want you, "he moaned, leaving saliva trails on Steven's lips, his chin, his neck.

He pulled away just for a few moments to take Steven's shirt off and then pounced, hungry, the portion of the skin right above his collarbone, biting it completely out of control, then moved to his nipples, licking and sucking them, while forcefully kept him pressed against the wood of the door, tightening his wrists, immobilized above his head.

Steven bit his own lips, trying to swallow the moans of pleasure that obscenely came up from the depths of his throat and almost cried out when Brendan released his wrists and pulled both his tracksuit bottoms and boxers down to his knees with a single sudden motion.

Brendan placed himself in front of Steven's swollen crotch, inhaling deeply the enveloping smell of his sex, moist, warm, so tasty that he wish to trace out its outline with the tip of his tongue.

He wanted to devour him.

He wanted him so much that every part of his body ached in anticipation.

He couldn't wait a second more, so he dipped his middle finger in his own mouth, wetting it with his own saliva and then approached Steven's hole, penetrating him suddenly up the second knuckle, and almost immediately accepted his cock into his mouth up its root, and started sucking it off voraciously while Steven bent back and started swinging his hips, clutching at the Brendan's shoulder for not falling down.

Brendan inserted a second finger, slipping deeper. Steven's orgasm took him by surprise in his mouth and he savoured every last drop, while his head was spinning and his hard-on pushing and throbbing against his jeans.

He stood up and swooped on Steven's lips again, slowly slipping his fingers out of his burning body.

"I wanna fuck you."

Steven nodded frantically. As they headed toward the bedroom the youngest man was already horny again.

"Keep them open for me"

Steven nodded and propped his knees onto the bed, his head buried in the pillow and with his hands pulled his own buttocks apart, shamelessly exposing himself to Brendan's thirsty look. The latter was taking his time, admiring Steven's red and slippery hole, his own finger that slowly fucked it, let him moaning in frustration for feeling still so empty. But he needed it.

Brendan desperately needed that image to permanently delete from his mind the one he had sex the last time, a couple of months ago, in a smelly and dirty hole of the prison.

He combined his tongue beside his finger, keeping torturing relentlessly that hole until Steven begged him to give him more. Brendan got rid of his clothes quickly, grabbing the cheeks firmly on Steven's hands, and Steven let out a sigh of relief when the tip of Brendan's cock slowly push inside him.

Brendan took in a deep breath as he watched ecstatic his cock slipping a bit deeper and enlarging that small hole that adapted perfectly to his cock like no one else would have been able to. Brendan was mesmerized in front of that incredible image, while his cock worked slowly and more and more deeply, inch by inch, before being swallowed into Steven's boiling heat. In there, he no longer saw the yellowish grin of that man who had sucked his cock off, nor heard the cries of Johnson's men when had raped him with a wooden club, and least of all his father's guttural sound as he had come between his boyish legs.

Brendan keep moving with slow and regular pushes, back and forth, turning slightly his hips once in a while, because he loved to hear Steven shout louder than screams in his head.

But it was not enough.

Suddenly, Brendan lifted Steven, enclosing his chest and tightening him to his own, pushing him so wildly on his erection that for a moment he had been afraid Steven was going to break himself in two. And holding his chest glued to Steven's back, a hand gripping his hip and the other one around his throat, pressed the jugular slightly for a few dangerous seconds, moaning his name, fucking him like an animal, as if it were the first time ever and there wouldn't have been another.

Then he reached Steven's erection, combining his own hand to his, pumping furiously in sync with the frantic movements on his pelvis.

They came together, collapsing on the bed, as blood returned slowly to flow towards their brain.

.

.

Brendan wanted to stay there forever, with his nose buried in Steven's body and their fingers interlocked tightly, but the first light that brought dawn wakened him from that absurd dream.

Steven slightly moved and mumbled something under his breath. Brendan hesitated a moment, then got up, careful not to wake him up. Then he took the bag with his clothes and walked in the bathroom, looking for some medical drugs that might be useful to Carmelo. He found some antibiotics, a jar of painkillers and some sleeping pills. When he turned for leaving the bathroom, Steven was behind the door with his arms folded and a serious scowl.

"What game are you playing?"

Brendan briefly told him what had happened.

"The cabin in the wood"

Brendan nodded.

"And you wanna help him despite he tried to kill ya"

Brendan nodded again.

"Why?"

Brendan shrugged. He had no personal reason, he only knew that he had to.

"You know he's a mobster. Don't ya?"

"And I'm a serial killer, Steven."

"You can't to compare yourself to him, can ya?" he asked, shocked. "They say that he has committed more than sixty murders."

"That doesn't make me a better person. I deserve the prison just like him. "

Ste tried to swallow the mammoth lump that had formed in his throat. He walked closer to him and started stroking Brendan's arms so that he could feel concretely the reality ahead, only two of them and no one else.

"The newspaper told he kidnapped and killed a child, dissolved his body in acid."

Brendan stiffened. Steven did not know exactly what Brendan had gone to do to save himself from the prison, for revenge or protecting the ones he loved, but a child ... that was all another story.

Steven kept stroking him and Brendan was too lost in thought to realise that Steven's hands had ended up under the right sleeve of his t-shirt. Brendan realised that when he saw the shock in his eyes. Before he could remedy that, Steven lifted his sleeve and found out the scar that he had tried to hide until that moment with all the skill he was capable.

"What's this?"

"Nothing," said Brendan, lowering his sleeve quickly.

"Nothing?" Echoed Ste, his voice breaking with tears. "Is this the place where you want to go? And next time? They're gonna chop you up? "

Ste shut his lips in a tight line and took the bag away from Brendan's hands, marching toward the bedroom.

"Steven ... please... just think" said Brendan after him.

Ste threw the bag in the closet and sat on the bed, legs crossed, arms folded and face on fire.

"You're not going anywhere, right?" he intimated him.

"What am I supposed to do, huh? Locked up in here, until the end of my days? "

"Of course not," said Ste, staring into his eyes. "No... I mean " his look became softer. "We just have to wait for the right moment before escaping. We could go to Cheryl. She lives in a castle. It's so large that the police will never find us. "

Brendan slapped his forehead ironically, then sat onto the bed beside Steven.

"Course we can! How did I not think of that? "Then cupped Steven's face in his hands. I couldn't set foot out of England, Steven. Did you consider you could get into big trouble, too? "

Ste looked down, pouting. "I don't care."

Brendan forced him to look at him. "I do," he said in a muffled voice. "I care about you, idiot!" He replied, hugging him tightly.

Ste hugged him back with the same intensity and despair.

"I don't wanna lose you, Brendan," he sobbed. "Not again. Please."

Brendan kissed him. He should go, in any case.

He took the bag with his clothes and the drugs, some food, a blanket, his shattered heart and, finally, slipped through the streets before the sun shone high above the horizon.


	7. Run - part 1

**Here I am. Sorry for the shameful delay, but I thought that I wasn't doing a good job anymore. The more the visits increase, the more the reviews decrease, and a fan-writer could wonder why, losing inspiration. Anyway, I hope you like the next chapter, honestly it didn't convince me that much. Thanks from the bottom of my heart for reviewing, although I didn't understand the 'no' of the last guest. I guess that they didn't enjoy the previous chapter.**

**Please, waste a bit of your time for telling me what you think. Thank you in advance.**

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**Chapter 4.**

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**Run**

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**Part 1**

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_He is already gone,_

_I don't know where he's going,_

_I don't know where he's been._

_But he is restless at night,_

_He has horrible dreams._

_So we lay in the dark,_

_Cause we've got nothing to say._

_Just the beating of hearts,_

_Like two drums in the gray._

_I don't know what we're doing,_

_I don't know what we've done._

_But the fire is coming,_

_So I think we should run._

_I think we should run, run, run, run..._

_While I put on my shoes,_

_He will button his coat,_

_And we will step outside,_

_Checking out the coast is clear_

_On both sides,_

_We don't wanna be seen._

_Oh, this is suicide.._

_But you can't see the ropes._

_Will you stay with me my love?_

_For another day.._

_Cause I don't want to be alone,_

_When I'm in this state._

_Will you stay with me my love?_

_Till we're old and gray._

_I don't wanna be alone._

_When these bones decay..._

[Run – Daughter]

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"You look like a shit"

Ste gave Doug a withering glance, turning away his red and sore eyes from the counter with great effort.

"Are you okay?"

Ste shook his head slowly. "I slept badly last night," he croaked.

Actually, he hadn't sleep at all, and every single muscle in his body was screaming in pain. His heart above all. For that particular moment of his life, his inability to fix it, because that morning he had found the place beside him into the bed colder and emptier than ever.

"Look, Ste" Doug stopped slicing the tomatoes and glided towards him. "I can imagine how you're feeling since Brendan is out there somewhere, but-"

'But what? "

"Don't do anything foolish."

"Like?"

Doug shrugged and returned to slice the vegetables. " You know. Going out to look for him."

Ste rubbed his face in his hands nervously, wondering why the hell he had come to the deli. The last thing he needed were the pearls of wisdom of the good Douglas Carter from New York.

"You don't need more trouble after all the things he did" concluded Doug, decapitating a cucumber with surgical precision.

Ste looked daggers at him, but he was so tired that any reply wouldn't have been sharp enough.

"Ste?"

"What?" Ste snapped, uncaring to disguise his irritability.

"I overheard the police talking about it, yesterday... before you came in here."

Ste moaned in response, rubbing his temples in a slow, circular motion.

"I think the cops can tap you."

Ste stiffened, staring at a vague point straight ahead, deeply lost in thought. He hadn't thought about that possibility. He tried to remind himself if he had been on the phone with Freddie or Peterson in the past two days.

"Of course he had. But the more he tried to think, the more he could not remember if he had spoken up too much. Probably not. In general, their conversations were innocent enough for duping police in case of interception.

Doug, obviously, had not only thought about that, but also about Brendan, as if the man could send him greetings from some exotic location.

Dear old Doug, always one step ahead of everyone.

"You know my thoughts about it" continued Doug.

Ste sighed heavily. He knew very well what Doug thought and he was sick and tired of it, to tell the truth. He would no longer let anyone, least of all Doug, criticize his past relationship with Brendan and his pleasant memories that had buried the unpleasent ones and everything else was questionable for everyone else. Much less he would have let him since he had found Brendan again.

Yes, he said to himself in a flush of fierce pride. He had found him again. He just had to go out and take him back, for the fuck's sake.

"Brendan could never make you happy. He has never been capable to-"

"You know what, Doug?" Ste cut him off abruptly.

Doug jumped, so much that the blade almost went to touch his fingers.

"I'm gonna go home to sleep" continued Ste. "Don't worry, I'll switch off my phone so the cops can't tap me."

"You can't do this," Doug fussed. Yet he should be used to. He had lost count of all the times Ste had disappointed him leaving him on his own. "We have a delivery within this afternoon."

Ste stared at him with bright and determined eyes, his lips reduced to a thin and cold line. He took his apron off with a single tug and sneered.

" Excuse my French, mate... but I don't give a fuck!"

Ste walked out of the deli with a big smile drawn on his lips while Doug's sharp eyes pierced through his back.

.

.

.

Ste wasn't sure if he would have set foot into his apartment again, he didn't know if he would have seen Doug, he didn't even know if he would have ever come back to Hollyoaks, nor when he would have seen his children again. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be with Brendan and nothing could have prevented him from getting that.

For that reason he had taken all he needed, clothes, food, a sleeping bag, a camping stove and of course all his money and bags of pills for a few thousand pounds. Finally, he walked towards the cabin in the woods without a hint of regret.

Brendan didn't look that glad to see him.

"What are you doing here?"

Ste's lips trembled in disappointment. Certainly he did not expect Brendan jumped for joy, but any different reaction would have been widely accepted.

Brendan grabbed and pulled him into the cabin and immediately closed the door.

"I wanna be with you," said Ste fervently, slamming his two bags on the floor.

The impact raised a cloud of dust that covered every corner of the old shelter, giving it a gray and unhealthy air. A foul smell was coming at him from the darkest corner.

"What if someone had followed you?"

"Who?" Ste replied smugly. "The cops are too busy hunting for real bad boys."

His eyes brought into focus the dark and smelly corner where at first he had thought to see a pile of rags. Only then was he able to find out it was a man, wrapped in the blanket he had given to Brendan that morning.

"The cops are searching for him," he added, pointing the stranger out.

"Exactly," said Brendan. "You should go away," he said, pushing him toward the exit.

Ste nailed his feet to the floor. "I'm not going anywhere."

Brendan sighed heavily, realising instantly that he would get nothing that way.

"Your phone?"

Ste frowned.

The police could detect it" Brendan explained calmly.

Ste's look lit up. "It's off."

"It's not enough"

Ste whipped out his phone and removed its back cover, took the SIM card from inside and put it in his pocket, then threw the phone down at his feet and stepped on it with all the strength he could, turning it to a small heap of plastic and circuits.

Brendan followed those frantic movements, gaping.

"You're totally insane" he said, unable to hide a slight smile.

Ste looked at him straight in the eyes with a defiant air, then tied his hands around Brendan's nape.

"I learned from the best," he whispered before crushing his lips against Brendan's ones in a needy kiss.

The older man hesitated for a second, then wrapped his arms around Ste and deepened the kiss until the need to breathe prevailed. In the end, he rested his forehead on Ste's, savoring bliss and hot breath on his own face.

.

.

.

The electric shaver ran out of battery just as he was about to shave off his mustache.

Ste put the mirror down on the ground and grabbed Brendan's arm as soon as he saw him looking for a razor in the bag he had brought, so that he could continue to shave.

"Stop!" he said with an alarmed look. "Keep it. '"

Brendan pointed his own mustache out, raising an eyebrow. "You want me to keep this?" he asked surprised.

"Just for a while."

Ste had become accustomed to the feeling of Brendan's beard on his skin, but seeing him again the way he was months before gave him a small shiver of nostalgia. So he swooped on him and kissed him hard. Some hair ended up on his face giving him tickle, but he didn't care. They slowly slipped down to the floor.

Brendan leaned his back against one of the outer walls of the building, completely overwhelmed by the sensations that Ste was giving him, his kisses, his hands that caressed his face or clung to him as that time in the hospital before he was pulled away from him.

"Brendan" he whispered, like a warm breeze that gave him goosebumps all over his body.

Ste cupped his face in his hands, kissing him again and again, then went to ride him in a split second.

Brendan gasped.

"Ain't let you go away again. You know that." said Ste bluntly.

Brendan stared him in his eyes intently.

"Steven" he tried.

"Shush" Ste interrupted him and kissed him again, while he was clumsily trying to take off his trousers.

Brendan unbuttoned his own jeans and pulled them along with his boxers down around the middle of his thighs, then grabbed Ste's hard-on, flush with his own, in the meantime he was devouring with his eyes all of him, his parted lips , his tongue peeking out between his teeth, his amazed look as he were seeing their cocks, slicked for excitement and desire, move in unison for the first time. All that Steven used to do, even unwittingly, was able to push Brendan over the edge, making him want to bury himself inside of him, more than anything else, and not go out until the next morning.

Around them just the tepidity of a September afternoon and the birds singing.

Later the night fell over both of them as a cover of stars.

.

.

.

There were an infinite number of webs under the roofing, many of them worn by time like everything else in that place, the remaining ones had some small insects trapped in since a skillful spider had decided them fate. Just like a man had indelibly marked his.

The ground was hard and a sharp stone was torturing his back from under the sleeping bag. Steven, instead, was sleeping peacefully as if he were in a five-star hotel, comfortably draped onto his torso. That wasn't the life he had promised him, though.

Even though he was holding Steven tightly in the crook of his arms, as if God had especially designed them for that purpose, he knew that wasn't his place. Steven had to go back to his life that would have been much better than the one he could offer him, an incessant escape from trouble and police. Nothing else.

His love for him wasn't enough with no dreams.

Sooner or later, Steven would have left him for something or someone better than him and he could not have borne it.

How could have he let it happen again?

Steven got much closer to him in his sleep, brushing Brendan's chest with his mouth. He felt the shadow of a smile tickle his skin. God! He could die on those lips and would have been the happiest man in the world.

A strange moaning, coming from inside the cabin, pulled him out of his thoughts.

That was another problem he had to find a solution to.

Brendan gingerly broke away from the embrace, after leaving a soft kiss on the top of Steven's head, got up rubbing his own back and entered the cabin as if it were another world, so far away from light and heat that only Steven's touch could give him.

Carmelo was trying to stand up, staring at him grimly in a clear request for help that Brendan wasn't going to accept. Since Brendan had learned that the man was guilty of such heinous a crime towards a kid, had approached him only for putting food, water and drugs down beside, but it was not enough for Carmelo, of course. He wasn't able either to wash himself or change the bandages on the wounds.

Steven had stepped in with a couple of proposals, one more unattainable than the other. The first one was that they could drive Carmelo to the nearest hospital by the deli's van and finally escape towards Ireland. The second one was that they could abandon Carmelo in the woods and escape by the van as agreed.

The main thing, though, was that Brendan did not agree with him about anything.

The prickly problem was to convince Steven.

In the meantime, Brendan had filled a bottle with water and handed it Carmelo. Both of them jumped as someone appeared over the door. Steven stood with a sleeping bag in his hand and his hair wet and flat on his forehead.

"It's raining," he said as if his look weren't obvious enough. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Brendan walked up to him and wiped raindrops from his face with a slow caress. "You were sleeping so deeply and I didn't noticed the weather was turning nasty. Sorry."

Ste dropped the sleeping bag to the floor with a wet thud, getting as close as possible to Brendan. "Never mind," he whispered, languidly nuzzling in his caress, his eyes closed and his lips brushing Brendan's light fingers.

When he opened his eyes he noticed Carmelo staring at him over Brendan's shoulder and unpleasant chills run down his spine.

Brendan noticed the bother. "What's up?"

Ste quickly looked away from that disturbing sight and stared straight into Brendan's eyes.

"Let's go away from here, Bren. Just you and me. Today! "

Brendan shook his head, sighing deeply.

"Not again. please"

Ste tied his hands around the back of Brendan's head, forcing him to not break eye contact.

"Bren, we can do it," he said with enthusiasm.

"It's not that easy, Steven."

The younger of the two curled his lip in distaste. It's because of him, innit?" he asked, pointing out with his chin the place where Carmelo was lying.

Brendan twisted his head toward the man, then quickly back to his boy .

"Yeah" he answered, "but not for what you think. If the cops capture him they will find out about you in less time than it takes to say it. Not to mention that right now there will be dozens of police blocks across the Country. "

Ste nodded against his will. "I haven't thought of that until now. You ain't gonna back to prison, right? I don't wanna lose you again. There must be a solution."

Sure there was, thought Brendan, rubbing Ste's back fondly. And it implied a single, simple answer. Steven needed to forget him. At that moment he saw no other way out, because there was no future for two of them together.

He had decided to give up on him ages ago, after all, even though at that moment it was even harder to let him go, since Steven was back in his arms, and he could smell his hair and skin, feel his heartbeats against his own.

Brendan put his hand on the side of Ste's face and kissed him passionately. "I love ye, Steven... and this will never change, but you should go back home".

"Don't dare-"

"Steven" Brendan cut him off, placing a finger against his lips. "Listen to me. Listen... please. Someone in the village might be wondering where you are, the police may pay you another visit-"

Brendan fell into abrupt tense silence, tapping with two fingers against Ste's chest. Lying to him had never been so hard.

"Go back home. In the meantime I'll do my best for finding a solution. I promise."

"We'll do" Ste corrected him, looking at him with his moist eyes, in his heart a great fear of losing him forever.

"I promise," Brendan said, snuffling.

Ste nodded, his expression dead. "Okay, but I'm gonna come back tomorrow."

"Steven-"

"No!" Ste snapped. "I'll bring more food. You need it."

Brendan agreed, thinking he was going to move away from there the next morning, before Steven's return.

"Be careful" said Brendan, then kissed him hard, stroking his face one last time.

Ste took one of the two bags, the one with his stuff and Brendan followed him with his sad and wet eyes until he disappeared in the labyrinth of plants.

.

.

.

Ste made all his way back home with an anxiety that ran like a current through his gut. At every step he had been wondering if he was doing the right thing and the answer was always the same. He wasn't. He had left Brendan along with a fierce murderer, plus leaving the next day would have been more complicated for him, somebody could see him and ask too many questions. He slammed the bag onto the table with an angry gesture and the thought of running straight back to Brendan. He had to think very hard, so went into the bathroom to take a shower. The water washed away dust and sweat from his body, but also Brendan's smell unfortunately. When he walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in his towelling robe, a stream of cold air hit him. He walked in the living room and noticed the front door wide open. It was so strung up that he had not been paying attention before. Shuddering, he hastened to close it.

When he walked back into the living room, he was no longer alone.

"Welcome back, Ste!"


	8. Run - part 2

**Sorry guys for the huge delay, but I had a really stressful time, my computer broken, an infernal noise that didn't let me think. Now it's okay, but with all the news on the show I almost wanted not to continue this fiction, although all the things in my mind adapt now more than ever to things that are happening to Ste. Thank you very much for your feedback, I really need it. Hope you like this chapter and keep reviewing.**

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**Chapter 4**

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**Run**

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**part 2**

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_"Open your eyes!"_

The pain was excruciating with every breath taken.

_"Open your eyes! Fuck! "_

Between the swelling and pallor on his face, two blue window hardly opened. However, Ste could even see specks of dust on the carpet and corners weakened by time, where he and Amy had put a patch on. So his sight seemed okay, although his eyes were terribly sore. Just like all the rest of his body.

He started bending his fingers and let a guttural agonized moan out as soon as he tried to force index and middle fingers of the left hand. They probably were broken when he had tried to defend himself.

Ste would have given everything he had until the worst damages were limited to that. He had received a powerful punch in his stomach and he could consider himself lucky if he had not suffered from internal injuries nor broken ribs. Actually, he could consider himself lucky to still be alive.

The thing that was making him angriest, above all, was the fact that he was taken by surprise as a rookie. He expected everything except that Trevor would have showed up in his flat for settling the score. The man usually sent someone of his lackies who did the dirty work for him.

_"Now, get up_," he said, trying to give himself strength and courage.

At first, Ste went to look at himself in the bathroom's mirror, for a rough evaluation of the damages to his face and saw that, apart from a few cuts and bruises he has no serious injuries, so his condition did not look like worse than when he had been beaten up in the past. What concerned him most was the chest pain. He could not walk without feeling atrocious pangs, much less he would have been able to go to Brendan that afternoon. He shouldn't have listened to Brendan, so the two of them could be on the run somewhere at that moment, trying to plan their future together right then.

_The cash!_

Awareness struck him most painfully than the sharp pain in his chest. In an instant he clearly remembered everything had happened earlier.

Trevor had entered his house to tell him that he had lost an important deal, because Ste did not attend the appointment the night before with a guy, and then he had come to ask why he hadn't taken the calls. Then he saw the bag.

Are you leaving?

No... no. I'm not.

Trevor had opened his bag, seen the clothes, found his passport and, finally, the bags with the pills and the money. All his money. All he had been able to put aside in the past six months. His ticket for a carefree future with Brendan.

Ste had tried to avoid he get his hands on it. He had tried to build an reliable justification. But it had been all useless. Trevor had hit him like a punching bag, sending him crashing to the floor. He must have also lost his senses, because he did not remember the moment when Trevor had left along with all his money.

He had to take it back. At any cost. But first he needed help to get back on track.

And only one name came to his mind. More or less reliable, more or less caring and, even though he had the habit of asking too many questions, at the same time he necessarily didn't not expect answers from him.

Thankfully, Ste had not terminated the phone contract yet so he could call and ask for Doug's help.

.

.

.

"You need to go to the hospital"

"No way!"

"Ste?"

"I said no!"

Doug squeezed the bandages as hard as he could, eliciting a hiss of pain from him and Ste cleverly disguised it with a little cough. He did not want to give Doug a leg to stand on, besides that he already had, because it was true he felt like a shit and should go to the hospital, but he just couldn't. There was no time and he could not run the risk of being questioned by police. At that point, he had realized that, under stress, he could become a shitty liar.

"Did you bring what I asked for?"

Doug nodded, putting on the table some painkillers, a cooler bag with food and an envelope with beverages.

He was more frown than ever.

"Would you tell me what are you gonna do?" He asked after a deep breath.

Ste shook his head. "I don't wanna involve you, Doug."

The younger man snorted a chuckle ironic. "Don't you think I'm already involved enough? Who did to you this? You can tell me that at least"

"You don't want to know it. Anyway... it's not important. I was robbed and I want my money back, every last penny. By the way... I can't pay you. Hold the money I owe you from what you owe me for half the deli. "

Ste wore his hoodie back, very slowly for avoiding to feel more pain. It seemed like Doug had done a good job. He felt better. Surely he hadn't broken ribs. That had already happened to him in the past and certainly he had been worse. In his fury, Trevor had wanted him to avoid the hassle of going to the hospital.

Ste quickly swallowed two tablets of painkillers, as a precaution, and noticed Doug was looking around quizzically. Ste saw him go straight to the fridge and realize that it had been cleaned up, turned off and let with the door ajar.

Doug turned to him, frowning.

"Where were you going?"

"I told you. I'm gonna take my money back. "

"DON'T THINK I'M A STUPID!"

Ste winced, then gasped like a fish, unable to find appropriate words. Finally, he plopped down onto the chair, stunned. It had never happened Doug raised his voice with him that way.

"Tell me the truth! It has to do with Brendan? "Doug continued calmly.

Ste remained in marmoreal silence.

Doug drew his chair to him and sat down. "I saw you yesterday," he said, almost whispering in his ear.

Ste flicked his head in Doug's direction, snapping his eyes wide.

"You were going out of the village with two bags, one of them was that down there" he explained, pointing out Ste's bag, emptied and thrown into a corner of the room, his clothes still scattered on the floor.

Ste stiffened and looked at him defiantly. "Have you started spying on me?"

Doug shook his head in exasperation. "I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't," he replied.

"Oh, naturally! But I should rush every time you're in trouble and don't know who to turn to, right? "

"You had a choice. You could tell me no"

"Exactly!"

Doug jumped up and began to pace the room with nervous attitude, his hands deep in his hair as if he wanted to pull it out.

"Doug ... listen to me- "

"No, Ste!" he cut him off, stopping and returning to sit beside him. "Listen to me instead. You have to tell me nothing... but less than a year ago you were the most important person in my life. I know that everything has been rushed between us and Brendan was always in your head, but I loved you so much and for all that has been... please... be careful. "

Ste cracked a smile that seemed completely so out of place between a swollen eye and a split lip. "You know me, Doug. I'm always caring, me ".

"Don't joke, Ste. You can't fool around with such people."

"You don't know them."

"I worked for Brendan, I know what I'm talking about," Doug said mocking.

"And I've been his punching bag for years, nothing can scare me more by now."

"You know well that's not the same. Whatever irrational, mad and contorted his mind is, I know he cared... cares for you. What would he do if he saw you right now? If he knew what you're gonna do? "

Ste seemed to think about it hard. In fact he hadn't thought about how bad Brendan had taken it all. Until that moment, he had been only thinking about a way to get his money back.

"He would have a heart attack," he answered in a low voice.

"Exactly," blared Doug . "He wouldn't let you to do something so stupid and dangerous."

"Since when do you care what Brendan feels?" Ste asked suspiciously .

"I care about you, you idiot!"

Ste looked down. "I've been a bad partner and the worst husband and friend you could have."

"It could be even worse" said Doug in a soft voice. "We could be still together."

Ste looked up and smiled.

.

.

.

It was getting dark and Ste was lying in bed since Doug had left, not before making him promise not to get into trouble, but the constant thought of Brendan hadn't left him. He would have stand by him right then, bring him food and clean water. He didn't dare imagine how Brendan would have taken what had happened to him and Ste was not sure that Robbie and Freddie would have helped him against Trevor. Both of the guys were very intimidated by that man.

In the end, though, he was not so bad and could give it a try. The painkillers could ease the pain in his chest and with a bit of luck could mask the signs on his face. In the bathroom he found some make-up that Sinead had left after the short time when she had moved in. He had never made over himself, but he had lived long enough with several women to know how it should be done.

Once applied a bit of concealer on his bruises, there was almost no trace of beating. The rest could be masked by the darkness. Actually, he wanted to spend the whole night with Brendan, but he should give it up. He could not let Brendan know what had happened to him. He would stay just long enough to give him food and water and then should disappear at the speed of light.

.

.

.

Everything he had planned had been a failure. First, a torrential rain lasted until late afternoon and then Carmelo had begun to complain for abdomen pain. Also, the man's temperature was high, judging by the heat that he radiated around him.

Brendan put aside his deep reluctance to touch the man and ended up checking his wounds. His shoulder seemed on the mend, but under his ribs there was the most disgusting thing he ever seen in his life: a mass of clotted blood and greenish pus. A nauseating smell came up to him as soon as he took the bandages off. he took courage and a deep breath in and tried to clean the wound as best he could, while Carmelo wriggled and swore in his own dialect. But there was nothing more he could do. The medicines were finished and the man needed expert care. Brendan found himself on the back of the cabin to throw up the lunch of hours ago. And finally he stood to wait for Steven, undecided whether to let him stay or send him back to find more drugs. Or he could try to explain him the reasons for what he intended to do. Brendan shook his head as if to push that brief moment of weakness to the back of his mind. Steven would not understand why he had decided to leave him once again. He could hardly understand it himself.

Brendan waited for Steven to come with the end of the storm and before the night cast its shadows over the woods, but that did not happen. The more rational part of him admitted that it was better that way and, if Steven did not show up at all, leaving would be easier for him. However, the most selfish and needy part of him was tearing him. It had been six months without seeing him, convincing himself he would die in prison without knowing anything about Steven. Now, he could not imagine one more day without him.

However, when he heard a heavy breathing and footsteps approaching, he hurried to barricade himself in the shelter, both for precaution and avoiding him.

He stuck with his back against the closed door, petrified, while Steven started knocking.

"Brendan! I brought some food. I can't stay, though. I come back tomorrow. Maybe. "

Maybe?

Brendan frowned. Such an attitude didn't belong to Steven, and an annoying tingling in his mustache suggested that there was something behind that. Suddenly, he opened the door and found Steven ready to disappear into the woods. The light of a torch which lighted the path up.

"Steven!" he barked behind his back. "Wait!"

But the young man seemed not to hear, indeed he increased the pace and the first thing Brendan noticed was his limping gait.

"Steven!" he cried again, running after him.

Once reached him, Brendan fiercely grabbed his arms for stopping him.

Ste let out a cry of pain, squirming and refusing to turn around to face him.

"What is wrong with you, Steven?"

When he finally managed to make him turn, Brendan held Steven tight in his embrace, resting his lips on the side of his head. He felt him shaking like a leaf.

"Come with me" Brendan gently invited him to follow him.

Ste shook his head.

"I'd go. I can't-"

"I'll let you go if you tell me what happened to you"

"Nothing. Nothing happened, " Ste snapped back, trying to break free from Brendan's grip.

The latter grabbed his hand, the hurt one and Ste almost had to bite his own tongue to keep from screaming.

"What's this?"

"Nothing!"

Brendan snatched the torch from him and pointed it straight on the hand where he noticed two fingers bound. Then he light his face up; the cut on his lip had started to bleed again.

"Come with me!" Brendan said again, dryly.

Ste draw in a long breath and, resigned, followed him into the cabin.

Brendan invited him to sit on the floor beside him for starting to talk, but even that simple act could cause more pain in Ste, of course.

"I prefer to stand up," he said with exaggerated readiness, so that Brendan became suspicious further.

With a sudden gesture lifted his sweatshirt and saw the bands that wrapped around Ste's chest.

"Jesus," he exclaimed, astonished. "Don't keep saying nothing happened," he concluded with a perfectly rigid line drawn on his lips.

Ste sighed deeply, thinking he had made the worst mistake of his life. He shouldn't have gone out of his home that night.

"Where do you want to start from?" Brendan asked sternly.

Ste started chewing his own lips, unable to look him in the eyes.

Brendan lifted Ste's chin with his own finger. "Steven," he said impatiently, "The truth."

"Okay ... okay! "Ste replied emphatically and then started talking like a machine gun. "Trevor came to me. He told me that I owed him a lot of money because I've made you lose an important business and I didn't want you to take my money and he felt betrayed when he's found out I was leaving and Doug helped me to fix me 'cos I couldn't go to the hospital... just couldn't. "

Brendan looked at him thoughtfully. "Trevor? Please don't tell me it's Trevor Royle. "

Ste looked at him back, puzzled. "Do you know him?"

Brendan didn't answer.

Ste stared quizzically. "How?"

"How do you think, Steven?"

"You two..."

"Yeah" he filled in that interruption. "In a way. "

"What do you mean?"

Ste's gaze became alarmed. Brendan seemed disoriented, until he realized that Ste had misunderstood him. "Business, Steven. We were into business together ages ago. Then he started working on activities I didn't agree to. "

"Like what?"

"Extortion. Prostitution "Brendan said simply, but Ste knew there was so much more.

"Got it. And how were your relationships? "

Brendan seemed surprised by his question and took a while to answer.

"Normal. I mean the way such relationships can be, you know, between people like that... like me. "

Ste shook his head vehemently. "You're not like him."

Brendan sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Steven was wrong. He was not better than others. There were limits he had never crossed, whereas others had, when for a lifetime he had said he wouldn't, but all that didn't make him a better man than Trevor ... or Danny Huston ... or Walker. Nobody could swear whether he would able not to kill again or worse beat Steven up again. Just the thought made him shiver.

No one could cool the flames inside of him, knowing that another human being was allowed to put his filthy hands on Steven.

"Brendan. Brendan. "

Ste was calling him, gently shaking his arm , as he saw him suddenly away from him, with his mind and eyes, like if he had come out of his body and was flying to an unknown and unattainable place. Then he saw him staring intently, his eyes strangely darkened and breathing intensify.

"Brendan" he tried again to catch his attention, with slight hiccups in his voice, caused by the fear of not being able to bring Brendan back to him.

Brendan shook himself, as awoken from a dream.

"I'll kill him," he hissed, in a so sharp voice that Ste felt the hair behind his head raising.

"kill him," he repeated, pulling out a ten inches knife from his jacket .

Ste gasped in horror. Where on earth had he taken it?

Ste instinctively recoiled in fright, then threw himself towards the door, blocking Brendan's way with his own body. "You can't do that."

"I can, Steven. And I will. "

"NO!" Ste cried, terrified. "You can't always fix it all like this. It was nothing, see? "Steven started raising and lowering his own arms to prove he was still able to move easily. "I'm just bruised. I'm fine, right? Please, don't do it "

Brendan froze, with the knife in his left hand and a caress to Ste's head in the right one.

Without breaking eye contact with him, Ste snatched the knife and threw it carelessly in the opposite corner of the cabin. Finally, he hugged him. Brendan was stiff and cold like a statue.

"I can't let him get away with it, Steven" whispered Brendan, his chin pressed to Ste's neck. "He could kill you. What kind of man I am if I'm not even able to protect the man I love?"

Ste could hear the sounds of his throat against his own and took to stroke softly his head slowly, trying to calm him down and make him change his mind.

"He wanted just my money. Please, forget it. Let's take what we need and run away. Just run."

All of sudden Brendan pulled away from the embrace and look at him frowning.

In Steven's eyes he could glimpse the desire for that affirmation, hope and illusion. He felt he hadn't anything like that, as if Steven kept saying about unreality, as if in the last days he had been living in a dream and, sooner or later, he would wake up with the metallic thud of his cell's door that locked behind him like a coffin's cover.

He wanted to live, though.

"Okay, Steven. As you wish" he replied quietly.

Ste's smile widened as a wound of light in the darkness.

"When?" he asked, elated.

"As soon as you get better," said Brendan, wrapping possessively his hands around the back of Ste's head.

"I'm fine, me" pointed out himself.

Brendan shook his head, snorting a little smile.

"We have to plan everything, Steven."

Ste agreed with small nods.

"Then... Carmelo..."

The both of them cast their gaze to the bundle of rags a few meters away from them.

"Right," replied Ste dryly. "By the way... I brought more drugs, in case you need. "

"Good!" Brendan said with sheer relief.

Quickly, he went to recover the bag that Ste had earlier left out of the door.

An hour later, after eating and giving Carmelo the drugs, Brendan turned off the gas lamp leaning on the table, and joined Steven, in the comforting warmth of the sleeping bag.

"You should be in your bed at this moment. Sleeping on the floor won't help you. "

Brendan felt him shake Ste's head in the darkness.

"I'm fine only with you," he said sleepily. "I don't need anything else to heal."

Brendan leaned over to kiss his forehead, while Ste's breathing was becoming slower and deeper.

After a long and quiet night he was awakened by the birds singing that greeted the dawn and by slow movements into the sleeping bag. Brendan could distinctly feel Ste's erection against his thigh, a hand around his side and his nose buried in the crook of his neck.

"Hey!"

"Did I wake ya, didn't I?" whispered Ste slightly sorry.

Brendan brushed the side of Ste's head, positioning an imaginary lock of hair behind his ear; the room partially illuminated by the sunbeams through the rotting shutters.

"Doesn't matter now" he said, plunging to devour his lips.

Ste pulled away from the kiss a few seconds later, slipping on his neck, then got down to kiss his chest, tracing out the form of his muscles with the tip of his own tongue. As soon as Brendan saw him try to reach with difficulty his groin, he stopped him.

"What are you doing?"

Ste gave him a mischievous smile. "You know. I wanted to give ya a proper good mornin', excuse me for wakin' ya up so early. "

Then he licked his own lips, trying to disappear under the sleeping bag. Brendan stopped him again.

"It can't be proper enough in your condition," he said.

Ste pouted, pretending offended. "Trust me. I feel much better now. "

"Do ye? So," Brendan began, smiling lasciviously, "let me give you my personal good morning. On the house."

In a single motion, Brendan pulled Ste's trackies down up half thigh and disappeared with his head under the stuffed fabric.

Ste drew in a breath for the wonder of being in a moment much harder than before and completely wrapped in, his temples started pulsing along with his heartbeat and every hit of Brendan's tongue and the convulse gulps of his throat.

His orgasm was fast and powerful, so as to cause him a painful twinge in his head, and against his will he let out a hiss of discomfort. Brendan looked at him worried as he wiped his own mouth with the back of his hand.

"Are you okay?"

Ste nodded. "Never better."

"You sure?"

Ste nodded again. "I'm fine. Thankfully, this time I didn't end up in hospital. Trevor can hit much harder, trust me. "

Brendan stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Ste realized too late that he had spoken without thinking. "Nothing," he said, looking away.

"Steven?"

Ste stuck in an embarrassed silence.

"I can't believe it. He had done it before? "

"No... he didn't... just-"

Brendan jumped out of the sleeping bag, furiously picking up clothes from the floor.

Ste stood up, groaning, and jumped on him to stop him. "You can't go to him," he sobbed with moist eyes.

"Why not?" he growled loudly so that Carmelo, laying on the opposite side of the room, woke up.

Ste pulled the shirt from Brendan's hand, for preventing him from wearing it. If he could he would have tied him to a chair so as not to make him move from there.

Instead, Ste could not help but tie him up in his arms. Brendan's breathing was fast and gasping. The orgasm of a few minutes before was a mere memory.

"Why? Tell me why you let it happen, Steven."

"Me?" Ste's expression turned from concern to disbelief in a blink. "You think I wanted this? It just happened. I wanted the club, right? I had only one chance to get it. And then Amy didn't let me see the kids and I wanted to show her she could trust me again. "

"Dealing?"

"Oh, don't act so prude, Brendan! Don't tell me that the club was the result of hard work, because it never was . "

Brendan's wrath increased exponentially. "I jeopardized my life for you. I'd get killed just for your safety. I ended up in prison and I was serene because I thought you're gonna to live happily your life. No more abuses, games, dangers, without-"

"You really think I can be happy without you?" cried Ste an inch from his face. "You know what, Brendan? I've bugged him, right? "

"What do you mean?" Brendan asked , frowning.

"Exactly what I said!" Ste confirmed harshly. "I told him to hit me hard. I wanted to see if the pain inside of me would be gone away, even just for a few minutes, once my face was smashed and my ribs broken. I wanted to-"

Tears ran down on his face, on his bruises and shined before they died on his lips.

"Shut up!"

"It's the truth!"

Brendan hugged him tightly.

"Shut up!" he repeated, sobbing and kissing the top of his head.

"I just wanted it to end."

"No... I'll never let you do" said Brendan between a kiss and the other. "We'll be together, okay? We'll go away together, as soon as is possible. "

Ste sniffled, breaking away from him and looking him straight in the eye to make sure of his sincerity. Brendan cracked a smile and Ste drew an identical one.

"I love you," he said in a choked voice.

"I love you too," echoed Brendan, wiping a single tear on Ste's eyelashes with his thumb.

Ste wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"What will become of him?" he asked, pointing out Carmelo who was staring at them from afar, bleary-eyed from the fever.

Brendan turned towards the man for a brief moment.

"We'll leave the drugs, food and water with him. And then we're gonna be only you and me. Nothing else matters."

Ste's face became radiant, a moment later his arms were around Brendan's neck, lips on lips.


	9. Tomorrow - part 1

**I'm really happy to read your reviews. Thanks a lot for giving me your time. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter, it means a lot to me knowing what you think, so don't be shy.**

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**Chapter 5**

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**Tomorrow**

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**part 1**

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_We'll be swimming with the fishes_

_Leave out troubles on the side._

_And when the sun comes out,_

_we'll be nothing but dust,_

_just the outlines of our house._

_By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves,_

_in a wind that chills the skeletons of trees,_

_and when the moon, it shines, I will leave two lines._

_Find my love, then find me._

[Tomorrow – Daughter]

.

.

.

Brendan was awakened by a nose that rubbed against his neck, a knee that crept firmly between his legs and a moan coming up from deep of Steven's throat. Brendan felt the shadow of a smile and the quick flutter of his long eyelashes against his own skin, but Steven was not awake, not completely yet. In that half second before the awareness of reality, Steven was at the same time so active and so vulnerable and needy that he could make anyone lose control. Brendan had felt the lack of all that, his hot body, more intoxicating than any whiskey or drugs, pressed against him. Although he had got him more than a night at his side, Brendan had always terrified to open his eyes and find himself in the suffocating coldness of a cell. Alone.

Brendan wished he had got a bit of Steven's enthusiasm, though. Just a bit.

His mind had by now stopped opposing, but deeply in his heart he knew that everything that Steven had suggested was just a daydream. Try as he might he just could not see there was going to be a future with the man he loved; living, working, shoulder to shoulder until the end of their days, without the risk of someone who knocked on their door, saying: - _Brendan Brady, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent- _

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Brendan wrapped his own leg on Ste's hip and his arms tightly around his shoulders, starting to fiercely inhale his smell, sweet and wild at the same time. Ste moaned and before he could properly open his eyes or try any conscious reaction, Brendan abruptly slipped his tongue into his mouth, and finally turned Ste's body, still relaxed in sleep, beneath him. Ste had slept only with his boxer, imitating Brendan, and it was a snap grabbing Ste's erection, more present and throbbing than the young man was, and pull it out of that only barrier.

Ste finally opened his eyes, slightly veiled by surprise. Brendan looked at him for a second, admiring his swollen lips, the color of his face skin that was becoming incandescent, and dived again to kiss him, with more greed and urgency. Ste actively responded this time, lacing his hands behind Brendan's neck and swinging his own hips to the rhythm of his hand.

Brendan wished he turned him, hold him down with his face against the floor, a hand clawing his hair, and sink into him until he would lose consciousness of all that oppressed him. But that was not the moment. Now he needed to focus on Steven's expression, the spasms of his neck as he approaches orgasm, his muffled moans and his liberating cry at the end of everything. He had a desperate need to absorb all about Steven for sending away the cold feeling that it was all a dream.

Brendan stepped up the pace of his strokes, enjoying the chaotic movement of Steven's chest, the drops of sweat on his forehead, his tongue peeking out, red and wet, between his lips. Brendan noticed the boy was over the edge and he sank his tongue into his mouth again, choking Steven's last cry in his own. A second later, Brendan found himself spilling his own cum against one of Steven's legs. An orgasm of his that he had not wanted nor programmed and therefore it was not crackling as Steven's, but no less satisfying. Brendan could liken it to the opening of a champagne bottle without a pop.

Ste pulled away from him just to breathe. In the meantime, he chortled, his eyes shining for an orgasm that had left him stunned and weak; finally, they looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. As soon as he breathing returned to normal, Ste raised his head slightly for placing a chaste kiss on Brendan's lips.

"Good morning," he finally said with a hoarse voice.

Brendan smiled at him in response, then buried his face in his neck, holding him tight, while with his hand, still covered in cum, he began to draw distracted curlicues on Ste's belly. The latter imperceptibly wrinkled his nose, then closed his eyes, enjoying those magic moments of ecstasy, but with the desire to regain energy as soon as possible and be properly fucked by Brendan to the point of exhaustion.

He never got enough. Sometimes, he wanted him so badly that he scared himself.

Ste fell asleep for a few minutes, or maybe an hour, until he felt Brendan's fingers stroking his lips. He opened his eyes and found before him the intensity of Brendan's gaze.

"Suck," he whispered, gently pushing two of his fingers between Ste's lips.

Ste replied with a grin and opened his mouth, running his tongue along those fingers that still tasted of his own cum. As soon as looked satisfied, Brendan slid his hand under the sleeping bag, creeping between Ste's buttocks and quietly sank a finger into his hole, working up to soften it so that he could put the other in. Then he sank both of them to the second knuckle. Ste gasped, then began to push.

"I'm ready," he murmured against Brendan's lips. "I want you. Please. "

Brendan gently pushed him away and held his head down, stroking it tenderly, in spite of the harshness he was moving his fingers inside Ste's body.

"Just a moment. I want to see you "Brendan took in a deep breath. "You're beautiful."

Ste's eyes widened in surprise.

"I never told you this before, but you're really really beautiful, "he repeated.

Ste felt his cheeks burning. Maybe someone had already told him that in the past, but surely not that way that made him feel butterflies flying in his stomach. He had never felt beautiful. He had always been too thin, with ugly ears, and especially did not feel beautiful at that moment, with his face still bruised.

"Shut up!" said Ste, looking away.

"I'm not used to pay compliments, so... get it and that's it!"

Ste was about to argue, when Brendan's mouth sealed his.

"I love you, Steven. I love you-I love you-I love you," repeated Brendan, pushing his fingers, increasingly chaotic, into Ste's body.

"Did you bring any condom?" Brendan asked all of a sudden.

Ste stared at him in amazement. Since they had met again they had used no protection, and even before the prison it had happened that they did without it. Why right then?

"Look, Brendan" tried Ste "We can do without it. I don't think-"

"Don't take your luck on, Steven" Brendan interrupted him with a wise tone, too much for Ste's taste "Where is it?"

"In my bag, on the table," said Ste, disappointed.

Brendan slid his fingers out of his hole and Ste felt the loss as something painfully unbearable.

"I'll back soon," said Brendan, putting a quick peck on his lips.

Then he got up from the floor and started rummaging in Ste's bag. Suddenly he stopped, frozen.

His gaze was accidentally dropped on the opposite corner where the bed of the mafioso was, but he was not there. Carmelo was gone.

"Fuck!"

Brendan stooped to pick up his clothes, dressing under Ste's horrified eyes.

"What's going on?"

"He escaped," said Brendan synthetically.

Ste uncovered himself with a single motion, showing his erection, tense and proud between his legs.

"Does it matter now? So much the better, right? "

Brendan swallowed loudly in front of that exciting vision, but shook his head as he was finishing putting on his jeans.

"It's not better, Steven. If cops find him, he will lead them straight here "

Saying that, Brendan throw at him his tracksuit. "Hurry up! He can't be too far . "

The both of them rushed out of the cabin and in the first place they walked around the building.

Their search ended early. Carmelo was crouching in the grass to exert his physiological needs.

Ste instantly stopped his nose up. The stench coming from man was much worse than the one he smelt in the cabin the first time.

"Christ!" he exclaimed, moving away in a hurry.

Brendan followed him to the door of the cabin.

"He didn't escape," said Ste, pointing out the obvious. "He just needed to poo."

"Yeah."

"You know what this means?"

Brendan stared at him questioningly.

"Ste wrapped his hands around the back of Brendan's neck.

"It means that he's fine and..." Ste waited for him to finish, but Brendan did not pick up the clue or pretended not to.

"And?"

"And so we can leave today."

"No way, Steven. We'll do it tomorrow, as agreed. "

Ste frowned. "Why?"

"Tomorrow, Steven!" he repeated Brendan, categorical. "End of!"

Ste put on his face a childish pout and folded his arms, refusing to follow him inside the cabin where Brendan would likely take up the subject of a few minutes earlier. But Ste was no longer in the mood. Brendan was so unreasonable, that Ste's desire had waned along with his erection.

"I'm gonna have a wash," he said angrily.

Saying that, he walked away toward the spring.

Brendan stayed to watch him as he undressed, throwing his clothes on the ground in anger, and once completely naked, he started taking the water gushing from the rock with the bottle they had left there for that purpose. When the bottle was sufficiently full, Ste spilt it over all himself the icy water. Brendan could almost feel the chills on Steven's skin, while his cock had a pleasant flick at the sight of that naked body in the sunlight.

"What an idiot," Brendan muttered under his breathe, before disappearing inside the cabin.

Brendan looked around briefly. That was not a proper place to live, to stay safe or make love. Steven was right when he said that he wanted to leave from there as soon as possible. It was where to go that worried him the most. He sighed and started looking for something to put in their mouths. Later, the door, opened behind him, suggested that Steven had calmed. Brendan grinned satisfied and reassured at the same time.

"Help me to knock something together for breakfast, Steven," he said without turning around. "You're the specialist."

No answer.

"Steven-" he managed to say as he turned.

Carmelo was standing in front of him with a chair lifted with both his arms above his head. Brendan opened wide his eyes in horror, but he did not have time to react. The chair crashed with unprecedented violence on him, knocking him down to the floor, without giving him enough time to figure out what was exactly going on.

"Did you understand now... _Brendan_? "

Brendan thought that the blow had stunned him more than he thought. Was really Carmelo standing in front of him? He was seeing double at that moment, but his ear hadn't deceived him. Carmelo had spoken, and he had spoken English. His accent was questionable but Brendan had understood all too well.

Brendan shook his head for trying to garner his thoughts together. He felt some splinter of wood that had stuck into his scalp, the head echoed painfully, but he had to do something. He tried to get up.

Carmelo threatened him with the rest of the chair.

"Don't move, fagot!" the man shouted in a tone of voice full of disgust.

Brendan froze on the spot. "What do you want?"

Carmelo grinned; evil made his black eyes as two burning coals. It looked like a rapacious bird ready to hit its prey.

"Didn't you understand, did you?" The man asked, before making a cold laugh. "As soon as I'm finished with you, I'm gonna take care of that whore of yours out there. He'll be the visa for my freedom"

Brendan's heart jump out of his chest. "No. .. Steven ... no "

"My friends are waiting for me with a ship for South America. I'm a little sorry that your _Steven_ will become fish food. He's cute in his own way, for those who like the genre. "

Carmelo lifted the chair over his head and threw himself on him again, but this time Brendan was ready, so he rolled beside, making him missed the target.

Brendan tripped him and hastened to attack him behind trying to immobilize him. The man was fighting as if he had never been half dead until the day before. Brendan felt the elbow of him sink into his stomach and in the istant he closed his eyes in pain, Carmelo took the opportunity to slam him with his back to the ground. His head hit the hard floor, dazing him. A second later the man's hands wrapped around his neck, tightly, scratchy.

His vision blurred.

It could not end like this. He could not die that way. He could not let him kill Steven.

Brendan tried to move his legs for pushing him away, but the grip was becoming more ruthless and his strength giving out. Breathing was almost impossible.

Suddenly, he felt the air and the blood to flow back into him almost as if by magic. Carmelo was still sitting on his legs, but motionless as a wax doll. A creepy grin on his face.

Steven was right behind him, in the same immobility.

Brendan got up on his knees, his muscles quivered from the effort. And then he saw.

Steven's fingers was tightly wrapping around a knife, the same one that Brendan wanted to use to kill Trevor, and the knife had stuck to the hilt in Carmelo's back. Probably, it had split his heart in half.

"Steven!"

The young man did not answer. he looked petrified and unable to leave the handle.

"Steven," repeated Brendan with kindness mixed with concern.

Very slowly, he began to detach Ste's fingers from the knife, one by one, gently, as if they were made of glass.

In the end, Brendan hugged him. He could feel Ste's heart racing wildly against his chest.

In the same moment, Carmelo fell down to the floor on his own face.


	10. Tomorrow - part 2

**Thank you so much for your lovely reviews guys, I appreciated them a lot. I hope you enjoy this one too.**

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**Chapter 5**

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**Tomorrow**

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**part 2**

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Ste clung to Brendan's shoulders as if his life depended on them.

"Sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Brendan broke away from him, looking into his eyes, red from crying.

"What for? Never apologize to me, Steven."

Ste sniffled, wiping his face on his sleeve.

"He could've killed you," his voice sounded trembling, thin and fragile. "I shouldn't have left you."

"Hey!" Brendan hugged him again, lovingly placing his head on his own shoulder, his lips brushed Ste's hair. "It's okay. It's okay. You came back at right moment. "

Brendan started kissing the top of his head and held him tightly until he felt him lapse into his arms, until the awareness of what had just happened hit him painfully. Steven had committed a crime to save him. Someone else had condamned their own soul because of him. Again.

A small voice whispered in his head that if he hadn't, Steven would have put himself in danger, that Carmelo had deserved his death. The same voice told him that nothing would have happened if Steven hadn't been there with him, if he had left Steven alone as he had promised months ago.

"You need to go away from here," he said, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

Ste looked at him frowning. "What? I'm not going anywhere without you. "

"You are."

Ste shook his head vehemently. "No, I'm not."

Brendan stood up, grabbing Ste's hand for helping him to do the same.

"Listen to me, Steven. Please" he began, nervously rubbing his forehead. "You need to go home and I'm gonna clean this mess up."

"My mess!" Ste replied, firmly. The weakness of few seconds earlier was now gone.

"No... no. You did nothing. All this is-"

"It's not your fault, Brendan!" Ste snapped. "Your father first, now this. I'm not gonna let you do it again!" Then he grabbed his shoulders, shaking them slightly. "Let's go away, Bren. Please, just go. There's nothing to stop us now. "

Brendan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a while and ardently hoping everything was just a nightmare.

"Please," Ste begged again, his wet eyes.

Brendan nodded this time. "Okay, Steven!" Ste sighed quietly, a hint of a smile on his face. "But you'll do what I say."

"What?" Ste asked, puzzled.

"Go home, Steven. Wait for me there."

Ste shook his head vigorously. "No, you could be seen. "

"I won't let that happen. I come to you as soon as it gets dark. "

Ste looked at him with suspicion and Brendan noticed that.

"I promise ye, Steven. Trust me."

A heavy silence fell over them in a moment that seemed like eternity, then Ste stepped away from him, shaking his head.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I don't believe you."

"Steven!"

"I know you, Brendan. Don't get rid of me again!"

Saying that, he walked out of the cabin. He needed fresh air, free from the stink of putrescence and death that filled the place. He needed to think hard and look for any traces of their presence that could lead the police after them. He needed to wash his hands.

However, all he did was keeping his hands under the running cold water and his eyes lost on the rock ahead. He winced, startled, when he felt light fingers on his own shoulders.

"Steven."

Ste turned facing him, looking down.

"I'm fine, Brendan."

"No, you're not" Brendan replied without pause. "I know that look. It's that one of someone who have too much to handle. "

Ste replied with a wry smile. "You think this is a news to me, don't ya? Throughout my life I've had too many things on my mind that I thought it would explode at some point. Then I got Amy, the kids. Now, I have no one and I can't do it without you anymore. The past six months have been a living hell for me and I don't wanna feel that kind of pain never again."

Brendan sighed, bringing his own hands to his face, as if in prayer. "I wish nothing all this had happened."

"But it happened. And, trust me, I'd do it again if your life depended on it. I don't feel guilty in the slightest . "

The determination burning into Ste's glance clearly reflected his words, but Brendan knew from experience that everything, sooner or later, would be back to the surface, ripping him.

"Come here," Brendan muttered, reaching his hand out towards him.

Steven jumped onto Brendan's chest, wrapping his arms around him, and closed his eyes.

It started raining again.

An hour later, Brendan was sitting on the ground, alone, his back lying against the damp wall of the cabin, his shoes muddy. He had managed to convince Steven to go back to the village, waiting for a brilliant idea to get rid of Carmelo's corpse.

In the meantime, Ste was sitting on the sofa at home, his head in the hands, trying not to think about the events of the morning, and distract with the television. He was not interested in anything in particular, until after hours of trash tv, his attention was captured by the images broadcasted on a local television news and his heart bounced on his diaphragm.

The boss Joseph de Vita captured last night at the dock in Liverpool as he tried to board a merchant ship directed to Brazil.

The investigators hoped to get useful informations for the capture of the two other fugitives.

It did not take a genius to understand that if that guy would talk, it would show the place where he and his accomplices had left Carmelo and Brendan to their fate. The police would start combing around the area near Hollyoaks and would be the end of all their projects.

Ste jumped up, bursting into a roar of frustration.

They had to anticipate their flight and, this time, Brendan would do what Ste said.

For the millionth time Ste picked up his bag and walked out of his flat with the certainty of never to return. His first stop was the deli. He needed supplies and to convince Doug to lend him the van's keys in one way or another.

.

.

.

"What does it mean broken?"

"Brakes weren't working well, Ste. I take it to the Roscoe for a check."

Ste crossed his own hands behind his head, groaning in exasperation. Why things had to get worse?

"I'm going to the garage. Maybe they've already fixed it," he said finally.

Doug shook his head, skeptically. "I don't think so. I give it last night before closing. But what do you need to, by the way? "

"I wanna go to Manchester to see the kids," he tossed off.

"Ah, the kids. Sure, " said Doug skeptically. "by the van?"

"Yeah."

"Without a license."

"That's never been a problem."

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"You ask too many questions, Doug. We're no longer married. "

"Let me contradict you on this point. Technically we still are. "

Ste could not stand him when he acted with haughtiness.

Ste took the bag from the couch and made his way out as Doug stopped him.

"It's because of Trevor, isn't it?"

"Trevor?" Ste frowned. "What do you mean?"

Doug drew in a deep breath. "He came here a couple of times. He couldn't get in touch with you. And so can't I. Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my texts? "

"My phone got broken," said Ste in his own defense.

"Even the home's one? Or you're going deaf. I came up to the flat last night. You weren't in there. Where have you been? "

"Like I said: you ask too many questions, Doug?"

"You're working for someone else, ain't you? That's why Trevor looked so angry. It was him who beat you up last time. Right? "Doug threw his arms in the air into a gesture of exasperation. "Say something for God's sake!"

"None of your business, Doug" Ste replied, coldly.

"This is... my business. When a criminal comes to me asking for you I just... I've already played my part with Brendan. Thank you so much!"

That mocking tone made his blood inflame in the veins. In a moment, Ste found himself over him, his hand tightly wrapped around the collar of Doug's shirt and the back of the latter slammed against the glass door.

Suddenly, a blast made them turn toward the sound as one. Few people were out in the street at that hour of the afternoon and each one of them got their noses up, in the direction of the hill.

"It was like a gun shot," Doug suggested as Ste slowly let go the grip around his neck, glassy-eyed.

"Sorry," said Ste mechanically, tears pressing behind his eyes."I gotta go."

"Ste!" cried Doug one last time, before seeing him disappear in the alley.

A few seconds later, a cloud of dark smoke rose above the trees on the hill.

.

.

.

_Ten minutes earlier..._

Brendan had made his decision. Obviously risky. Obviously like most of the decisions he had made in his entire life. But he had thoroughly examined the cabin, the ground around, so the risk that all the woods burned away would be minimal. A thin drizzle was still falling down from the sky, soil and plants were wet because of the recent heavy rains and the wood of the building was completely rotten. The worst that could happen was that Carmelo's corpse or any traces of him and Steven were not removed properly.

But it was the only thing he could do.

He had been thinking for hours, staring at Carmelo's body, folded on itself, his face still contorted into the same furious grimace of when he had attacked him, and he had got no other ideas, except the insane one of sawing the corpse into small pieces and disseminate them all through the woods to the benefit of bugs and beasties.

The mere thought made him nauseous.

On one hand he felt nothing of the old self, on the other he could not help but being that way. In prison, with Johnson, he had meditated a terrible revenge in cold blood, and now, he needed to protect Steven.

It was like a curse that haunted him and that would forever. As long as he would have ended it all. But how many times had he already tried to? Too many.

The truth was that he should have died in that car with Peter, ages ago; he should have died in the explosion of the house on the beach; he should have died on that balcony out of the Chez Chez, amongst Steven's devastated eyes and desperate cries. He could die at that right moment, though, after having set fire to a corner of Carmelo's clothing, straight into the flames that were beginning to assail the floor and swallow bloody footprints, leftover food and sperm stains.

He should just step forward. Two steps for getting closer to hell's door.


	11. Smother - part 1

**Hi everyone! Thank all of those who read and commented. I hope you are still enjoying this drama as much as I do in writing it. The amount of comments is still modest, so I don't know if I'm doing a good job or not. Anyway, enjoy this.**

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**Chapter 6**

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**Smother**

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**part 1**

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_I'm wasted, losing time  
I'm a foolish, fragile spine  
I want all that is not mine  
I want him but we're not right_

_In the darkness I will meet my creators_  
_And they will all agree, that I'm a suffocator_

_I should go now quietly_  
_For my bones have found a place_  
_to lie down and sleep_  
_Where all my layers can become reeds_  
_All my limbs can become trees_  
_All my children can become me_  
_What at mess I leave_  
_To follow_

_In the darkness I will meet my creators_  
_They will all agree, I'm a suffocator_

_Suffocator_  
_Oh no_  
_I'm sorry if I smothered you_  
_I sometimes wish I'd stayed inside_

[ Daughters - Smother]

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.

.

"Just what I was looking for!"

Ste tried to avoid him, turning in on himself and taking the way back to the deli, but the steely grip on his shoulders nailed him on spot and Ste wasn't any longer able to escape him. From proven experience, he knew that a single finger of Trevor's could crumble him like a cookie.

However, Ste could not help but reacting. It was in his DNA.

"What do you want, Trevor? I'm in a hurry. "

"Really?" Then, as if seeing it just at that moment, he pointed the bag out, close to Ste's chest as if he would defending himself. "Oh, look! You're leaving again! "

He sighed and loudly clicked his tongue under the palate. "So rude of you not to say a goodbye to an old friend."

"You and I aren't friends, haven't been and will never be," Ste replied, coldly.

Trevor put his hand to his own chest, theatrically. "This is deeply hurting me, Ste. But I'll prove you're wrong. Now, you and I are gonna walk up to your home and take tea as two old mates."

Ste widened his eyes, alarmed. "The next time, maybe. I have things to do, right now . "

"'Course you do. With me!"

Trevor stretched his lips into a toothy smile that did not reach his eyes and gave him the cold and painful feeling like many tiny icy needles on all over Ste's back.

.

Into his flat. Again.

Ste started hating it now more than ever.

He was not supposed to be there at that moment, but with Brendan. He should check he was fine, that the explosion he had earlier heard coming from the hills nothing had to do with him.

Ste took in a deep breath.

"Trevor, please. We can see each other tomorrow, can't we? I have something urgent to attend to. "

The man shook his head, slowly.

"Put the kettle on! " he said, grinning.

Ste obeyed despite his will.

Ten minutes later, Trevor had in his hand a cup of steaming tea. The man was lying onto the couch as if he were the owner. Ste was holding his cup of tea so hard that his knuckles whitened, no desire to drink it.

"Tea makes me sick," said Trevor at some point. He put the cup down on the table ahead, then lay his back, cross-legged and arms firmly folded on his chest.

Ste tried to disguise a wince of disappointment and put down his cup, too.

"Well... tell me where you disappeared these past days."

Ste would prefer not to answer him. He did not owed him anything, and he was already sick of his game of cat and mouse. But he was also scared and, since he had found Brendan back, he was not going to get into more trouble.

"Family stuff," he answered, tightly.

Trevor snapped a cold laugh, but his false cheer lasted as long as a sigh.

"Because..." - Trevor continued as if he had never stopped - "...I'd be very disappointed if you did business with someone else, you know what I mean."

"Yeah."

"And I came here ..." said Trevor, glancing at around disgusted to emphasize the misery state of his flat, "... to make a deal that's highly profitable to you."

Ste froze on the spot, his hands clenched along his sides. The hours he had spent with Brendan, in the past few days, had transported him on a quiet planet, and had completely forgotten about the crap he had bogged down in. He remembered of it all, suddenly, at that precise moment, and it was Trevor's voice to remind him up to the last image.

"I don't understand what you're talking about," he said, trying to show neither the trembling of his voice nor the shaking of his legs.

Trevor stood up, stepping towards him and stopping only a few inches away from him. Ste swallowed his own saliva, painfully stuck in his throat. He had also forgotten how big and threatening the man was.

"You have no idea," Trevor replied after a long pause, during which he had stared Ste in the eye without blinking, "the amount of people out there, willing to shell out thousands of pounds for spending a single miserable night with a guy like you. "

Saying that, Trevor scanned him from top to toe with the same look of revulsion he had dedicate earlier to the flat.

Ste felt a drop of sweat slipping from his forehead . "I didn't understand," he repeated, his mouth suddenly dry.

Trevor gave him another smile of his. Ste could compare him to a wolf, but much more dangerous.

"I think you did, Ste."

Ste tried to swallow again, but his mouth was too dry by then.

"You're joking, ain't ya?" Ste turned his back away from the man, his eyes looking for pictures of his children in vain. He found nothing. He had previously emptied the flat from his most valuable effects. There was nothing in sight that could give him any comfort nor help, except the thought of Brendan in the woods along with a dead body to care about.

"Do I look funny at this moment?"

Trevor's voice gave him a jolt of cold electricity that made his hair straighten on the back of his neck.

Ste spun around, rubbing his own fingers, wild-eyed.

"You can't be serious. I'm not a woman! I'm not a whore! I don't even know how to-"

Trevor interrupted him, tapping on his chest with almost friendly attitude, Ste would dare say, if there had been another man in front of him and not the ruthless criminal he was.

"Look, Ste. You're not gonna do anything different from your usual, only this time costumers will be older and stuffed with money. It would be just a kind of transaction. A kid stuff. Simple as that."

"Simple? Call things by their proper name. It's prostitution, Trevor. I'll never do anything of the kind. "

"Oh, what a candid little virgin! What's this different from what you've done for me so far. Rather, no one will get hurt, maybe you'll even like it. "

Ste shook his head vehemently, stepping away from him as if it was almost possible to feel everything less real.

"No, I won't. I can't do what you're asking me. "

Trevor's face became harder and engraved than marble. "You're wrong, sweetie. I'm not asking you."

"What?" Ste said in a daze.

"You're still working for me".

"I've finished to work for you when you took all my money away from me".

"You have finished when I say that it's finished, boy!"

Having said that, Trevor nailed him against the wall with a hand looped around his neck, like the collar around a dog's neck, or a slave's.

"And now I say you'll do it or-"

Suddenly, the bedroom's door down the hallway burst open like the crack of a rifle shot.

"I'd say it's better take your hands off him... Trevor."

The man released his grip from Ste's neck. This time he was no longer smiling and turned slowly and carefully to the sound of the voice. Ste stood paralyzed against the wall, unable to utter a sound.

"Brendan!" said Trevor. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Brendan reached out his hand towards Ste and the latter rushed to join his side, letting a sigh of relief out, surprised as Brendan put an arm around his shoulder.

"I just got here. Miss anything? "

"We were talking about business, me and your ... um ... "

"Boyfriend. Steven is my boyfriend. "

"Nice. I didn't know it."

"Really?"

Trevor chuckled nervously. "You know how it is. You can't believe everything you hear around. How was in prison by the way? "

Brendan gave him a withering look. "It's not as that bad as they say. You should try it. "

Trevor chuckled again, more and more nervous. Ste felt a deep satisfaction in seeing him so manifestly pressed, yet a part of Ste was still trembling with fear.

"I think I'll do without. Thanks for the thought anyway. "Then he looked around briefly. "Well, I think it's better for me to go. Maybe, you and your... um ... boyfriend need a bit privacy. "

Trevor turned around to get to the front door, as a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him abruptly.

"Not so fast!"

Trevor's dark eyes darted quickly from Brendan to Ste, and he chuckled with the same apprehension as before. Brendan squeezed even more Trevor's shoulder and replied with a toothy grin.

"Maybe you can do something for me."

"Me?"

Brendan nodded gravely.

"Like a favor?"

Brendan nodded again.

Trevor deflated his shoulders, not believing for the luck coming to him.

"Okay, whatever. I owe you in any case. "

Ste stared at the two men quizzically. He still could not understand what was happening. Trevor was probably referring to the fact that he had beaten up Brendan's...um...boyfriend. But it was Brendan the one who perplexed him the most. On another circumstance, Brendan would have hammered the head of the wretch on call.

Brendan nicely pointed at the couch to Trevor and the latter sat down again, while Brendan sprawled out on the armchair beside, a finger bent on his lips and his legs crossed.

"Can we get any drinks, Steven?"

Ste's eyes widened, puzzled.

"Th-there's nothing in here, Bren."

"Take something from out," Brendan suggested him, without looking away from Trevor.

Ste lingered on the spot until Brendan reassured him with his eyes.

"A couple of beers will go well, Steven. Take your time".

Ste nodded and walked to the front door, still all his body shaking. Once outside, he stood for a full minute looking through the window that overlooked the living room. Trevor and Brendan seemed to talk each other in a civil manner. So, without more hesitation, but not without concern, he walked up to the deli, hoping that it was still open.

Fortunately, Doug had postponed the closing time because of some orders that were supposed to be ready in the next morning, but the younger man did not seem very happy to see Ste.

"Wow!" said Doug, with obvious sarcasm. "What an honor!"

Then, he went back to remove the pans from the oven, as if he had never been interrupted.

"Doug..."

"Doug what?" Retorted the young man, slamming one of the pans on the counter..

Ste was about to open his mouth as Doug preceded him, unstoppable.

"May I remind you that just a few hours ago you were going to beat me up? You promised me it would never have happened again. You left suddenly, no word or apologizes-"

"I apologized!" Ste protested.

"That's not the point," he cried. He tore his apron off and, making a ball of it, tossed it to the floor. "

I don't know what's wrong with you. You disappear for hours, days, then get back, and you're moody and I... I have no right to know anything anymore, but I can't help myself because I still-"

"Don't say that, Doug!" Ste rebuked him, alarmed.

Ste knew well what Doug felt for him, but he did not want to hear it, in part because he felt sorry for him, in part because that irritated him.

"I care about you." Concluded Doug, deciding at the last moment not to humiliate himself further.

"So do I" replied Ste, candidly.

Doug's expression softened suddenly and Ste took the opportunity to get what he wanted.

"What a good smell!" Ste sniffed happily. "What have you done?"

"Oh, this? It's a potatoes pie, with eggs, cheese, ham-"

"It looks so tasty" said Ste, sniffing closer to the delicacy into the pan.

"Do you want to try some?"

Ste pretended a bit hesitation. "You need this for tomorrow, ain't ya."

"Not really," Doug answered, as he picked a putty knife from the drawer. "I've made some more."

"Great!" exclaimed Ste with enthusiasm. "I'm starving, actually. All day in turmoil and I forgot to eat anything. "

Doug saddened instantly. "Really?"

Ste nodded, humming in the deep of his throat.

"Look, Ste. What if we took this pie, a wine bottle and went to your place? I barely ate, too. "

"No!" Ste replied, abruptly. "I mean... I'm dead tired, Doug. Though I accept your offer, ta. "He waved the wine bottle before him" Some of this and I'll sleep like a log. "

"Okay" Doug was clearly disappointed.

After thanking heartily, Ste walked out of the deli and went back home.

While Ste made his way into the flat, Trevor was about to leave. Ste could not disguise his relief in finding that there had been no bloodshed and that the house was still intact.

The only unfamiliar feeling that caught him off guard was the fact that Brendan had shaved his mustache, but he had left a goatee beard on his chin. Ste barely recognised him. He looked fine, yet weird.

"I brought some wine," said Ste innocently.

"Toast to me, sweetie. I need to leave." Trevor muttered before getting the front door.

"You're forgetting something, ain't ye?" Said Brendan, pointing Ste out, as he was putting down the food and the bottle on the table.

Trevor cleared his throat and Ste could see his lips trembling in aversion.

"About what happened before... between us... well... I'm sorry, okay? "

Ste's eyes widened and he turned quickly to Brendan that did not seem entirely satisfied.

"May I go now?"

Brendan was about to open his mouth, but Ste stopped him.

"It's fine to me" he said.

"Good. I go, then. I'll get you the papers within a couple of days, Brendan. "

"Don't worry. Tomorrow night I'll be at your place, Trevor. "

Trevor was about to protest, then he seemed to think harder. He sneered, briefly glancing over at Brendan.

"Okay, then. See you tomorrow. "

.

.

.

Doug had started harboring serious suspicious about Ste and, at the same time, had been trying to push them to the back of his mind. However, he couldn't help but imagining the most distressing and terrible scenarios, including the one where Ste would drain the whole bottle of wine along with an overdose of that shit he was pushing. When he had found himself in front of his own flat's door, still the keys in the air, he had made the decision to run down the stairs and head towards the council housing. Several times he had felt the urge to step off, but at the end he had found himself in front of Ste's door flat about to knock, scared of what he might have found.

"You're such a stupid, Doug" he scolded himself under his breath, making his way home. The lighted window of the kitchen pulled him back. Nothing prevented him to take a peek inside.

That he saw relieved his dark thoughts and, at the same time, gave him a pang of nostalgia.

Ste was naked, except for a towel tied around his waist, wet hair adhering to his forehead and a radiant smile on his lips. Doug saw him take a sip directly from the wine bottle he had taken away from the deli earlier, and then turn to the entrance of the hallway. He heard the faint sound of a voice, but Ste had not uttered any words. Doug imagined that could come from TV, as an imposing and completely naked figure hugged him from behind and kissed his neck.

Doug's heart seemed to take a leap into his throat and then painfully fell down in his stomach.

The mystery was revealed. Ste had got a new guy.

When the other man broke away from Ste and showed his face, Doug recognised him, despite he had no longer his infamous mustache, those which had tormented some of his sleepless nights for a long time.

.

.

.

The shower had been a godsend. Both had needed to let water and soap wipe away from their bodies the events of the whole day. Ste had said he could still feel smell of blood and piss, Brendan blood, piss and acrid smoke.

After he had set Carmelo's corpse on fire, the gas canister of the lamp had exploded, and he had a narrow escape. But not even all the water on Earth could wash away the guilt, but pretending that everything was fine, that once out of the bath they could turn into fragrant and white lilies. And then they could always get a good fuck, until their senses would stun to the point of no longer remember their own name.

Brendan had deeply thrust his tongue into Ste's mouth all the while the purifying water slid between their naked and hot bodies, and at the same time started working his hole with his fingers, pushing and widening, because he knew that he could not wait any longer for getting lost in him.

When they fell down onto the bed were both ready to each other. Ste tore the condom's wrapper with his teeth and unrolled it on Brendan's cock with a touch that made him bite his own lips to blood and sent a sharp and sudden twinge of pleasure to his bowels.

Their eyes connected by an invisible thread yet harder and more brilliant than steel.

Immediately after that, Ste straddled Brendan's pelvis and started riding him, slowly and deeply, his head tilted back and his eyes in ecstasy. Brendan grasped Ste's hips so hard that the next day they would have been able to count exactly all the finger marks on his skin.

The pace of the thrusts gradually became wilder and everything else was forgotten, for that night at least.

.

.

.

Brendan reached his hand out to the other half of the bed, discovering it empty and just warmed. He let out a groan of disappointment as he found himself alone in the bedroom.

Familiar sounds came from the kitchen and he calmed down, while the tension instantly slipped from his chest. A few minutes later, Ste went into the room, smiling, naked and with the breakfast tray in his hand.

"Morning!"

Ste's voice rang in his ears painful and yet reassuring.

"Morn'" Brendan muttered in reply. "Where the hell did you get all this stuff?"

"Deli" Ste replied, briefly.

"You're up early?"

"Dead excited to sleep" Ste replied, picking a croissant still warm from the tray and bringing it closer to Brendan's mouth. The man slid his hand between Ste's legs causing an instantaneous erection to him.

"You could wake me up," he said with a soft voice. "I was dead excited, too."

That said, Brendan bit the croissant ferociously, still stroking Ste's erection intently.

A few seconds later, Ste jumped on Brendan's lips pushing him onto the bed and lie down on him.

"Still can't believe that at this time tomorrow we can be well far from here," said Ste in between a kiss and the next.

Brendan grunted in response and Ste pulled away from him, looking down at him, frowning.

"Aren't you happy about this?"

"Happiness is highly overrated, Steven."

Ste froze for a moment.

"You don't love me as much as before, do ya? That's why you're so insicure."

Brendan felt suddenly sad about the way his words had wedged in Steven's head.

"Never," he hastened to say. Then cupped Ste's face in his hands. "If it were possible, I'd say that I never loved you as much as in this moment. You are all my life, Steven. And always will."

Ste beamed and hugged him impulsively.

Their lips collided in a flurry of desire. The last doubt vanished.

The doorbell tore them away from that moment of rising and renewed passion. They both looked at each other surprised and undecided about what do.

"Who can it be now?"

"You don't know unless you go to see who's that at the door," said Brendan, seemingly calm.

Ste instead was scared to death, yet he did as Brendan had said. He put his robe on and went to answer the door.

He looked through the peephole and felt his heart beating a thousand beats per minute.

It was the police.


	12. Smother - part 2

**Hi all! Sorry for the delay, but I was waiting the great revelation about Ste's dad before finishing this chapter. You have no idea how happy I am because all my previsions about Trevor, Browning and Danny fit perfectly to the current SL.**

**Anyway, thank all of you for the feedback, I'd be the happiest woman on Earth if my reviews could touch 60. Am I asking too much? Okay, never mind. Hug every single person who opened this page. Enjoy!**

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**Smother**

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**part 2**

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"Steven Hay?"

Ste nodded, rubbing his eyes, pretending to be half sleepy in front of the two officers coming from the near police station. Fear made his heart hammer furiously, sending chills through his body, insomuch that he had to tight the towelling robe around him as if he had been struck by a sudden fever.

"Good morning, Mr. Hay. I'm DI Bishop."

"What-what's the matter?" He stammered, yawning to give the impression of being just been dragged out of bed.

"Sorry, Mr. Hay. Unfortunately it's an identification . "

"What?"

"An identification, Mr. Hay" he repeated as he had to deal with a stupid little boy. "Did you heard the explosion on the hill yesterday afternoon?There was a fire and the firemen have found a body. "

Ste stared at the officer with a questioning look. "I've nothing to do with that! I was in the village, into the deli. Douglas Carter can attest to that. "

The man smiled slightly before his defensive attitude.

"This is not an accusation, Mr. Hay." He continued with a impatient tone. "You should help us to identify the corpse. "

"I don't understand."

The man sighed deeply.

"The body is almost completely charred, but we could have shed light on its origin."

Ste felt sweat materially gliding down his back, coldness increase in intensity.

The victim wore the sweatshirt assigned by the prison in Chester and it's made of a special fireproof material. We traced back to the serial number of the prisoner whom it belonged to. Sorry, Mr. Hay, but that number belonged to Brendan Brady. "

Ste didn't need to pretend to be sick. His face veered from deathly pale to bile-green in less than a second, so that the agent hurried to hold him.

"I'm fine. I'm fine! " he protested, abruptly pushing the man's hands away from his shoulders.

"Where should I come?"

"At the hospital, Mr. Hay. Unfortunately, we have no department equipped for autopsies and the body is storing in a special ward of Hollyoaks Hospital, at the moment".

Ste nodded gravely. "When?"

"As soon as possible. Even now. "

"Do I've a bit of time to get dressed?"

DI Bishop coughed awkwardly. "Of course, Mr. Hay. We're waiting for you in the car. "

Ste closed the door behind him and laid his back, his legs quivering.

Brendan looked out of the bedroom and Ste walked up to him.

"It was-"

"I know. I heard everything. "

"What will happen?" Ste asked, alarmed.

Brendan noticed Ste's rimmed eyes. He hugged him tight, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"Nothing will happen. "

Brendan felt the heat of Ste's tears on his shoulder.

"What are you crying for? Everything's gonna be okay. I promise. "

Ste pulled back and wiped his tears away on the sleeve.

"Just-just thinking that corpse could've been you," he sobbed. Then he straightened up trying to dispel with dignity that brief moment of weakness and tension. He swallowed.

"How should I behave there, in the hospital?"

Brendan shrugged. "I don't know. Improvise. Tell them you're not sure, it could be me, whatever, just we are given time for leaving. Tonight, I'm gonna take the papers to Trevor's. With them and a new identity, we'll have more chances to abandon the village undisturbed. "

Ste nodded and hugged him again. His heart suddenly less heavy. His eyes shut.

He would freeze that moment forever.

.

.

.

"Are you ready, Mr. Hay?"

"Not really. What am I gonna see? "

"Unfortunately, not much. The body was almost totally charred, except for a part of the torso."

"And the face?"

"Destroyed. Who did this didn't want the body to be recognised."

"Somebody did what exactly?"

"Do you really want to know it?"

Ste nodded.

"The bones of the skull, particularly those of the mouth, were completely crushed. They used a big stone. But then they made the mistake about the shirt."

Ste felt his gut wrenching. Finally he took in a deep breath and stepped closer to the body, or what was left at least.

An assistant lifted a corner of the white sheet from the side where the skin was only partially burned, even though Ste could easily see the bared flesh. But it was the smell to make him feel worse. Instinctively, he put his hands to his face. It was enough.

He had killed that man and Brendan had completed the job, acting cruelly all over the body to protect him. And, now, Ste had to do anything he could to put a full stop in that horrible story.

He nodded vigorously.

"Yes, it's him." He replied, without taking his hands off his face.

"Are you sure, Mr. Hay? You can look again."

"Mr. Hay?"

"Mr. Hay?"

.

When Ste reopened his eyes, he found himself lying onto a gurney in an aisle of the hospital and the first thing he saw was the blue of Doug's eyes, agitated for concern.

"What are you doing here?"

"I saw you walk in here along with the cops and-"

"You should stop following me, Doug." He glanced around briefly on the chaotic going and coming of people. "What happened, anyway?"

"You passed out." Doug answered simply.

Ste closed his eyes as images of all had happened sprout up in his head. He knew that there would be no way to send them away. Over time, perhaps. One day.

"They said the found body was-" Doug began, cautiously.

Ste nodded, as tears streamed down his face. They were genuine tears.

The stress of those days had started getting the better of him.

"How are you?"

Ste sniffled.

"What do you think, Doug? I'm in pieces. "

"Yeah. I see. I'm sorry. "

"I gotta get out of here," Ste snapped, throwing his legs over the edge of the gurney.

His head spun wildly as he stood up. He waited a moment, motionless and with his eyes closed until the world around him stopped turning.

Bishop seemed expecting nothing but that, and rushed over him.

"Mr. Hay? " the man greeted him with a nod.

"What do you want again?"

"I came to ask you if you can go through with the last formality."

"What?"

"A signature, Mr. Hay. Just a signature attesting to the identification of the evidence. "

"Evidence? His name is Brendan Brady. He's not a thing! "Ste retorted, angrily.

Only a few seconds later he realised that Brendan was at home, alive and well, anxious to know how things had gone. He barely felt Doug's hand on his shoulder, as he tried to contain that sudden fit of anger.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding calmer. Where should I sign? I wanna back home as quickly as possible. "

"I can understand." The man replied, concisely, before putting under Ste's nose an amount of papers to sign.

In the end, Doug insisted on walking him home.

.

"I think it's time you go back to work, Doug," said Ste, as they were next the council housing.

"I can take a bit of time off" said Doug with a shrug. "Hey, what if we eat together? I cook something for us. Come on! "

"I'm sorry, Doug. After what I've just seen, eating is the least of my worries. "

"Okay. But I can be with you anyway. If you want to talk about it. "

Ste shook his head. "I don't want that, either."

Ste put the key in the keyhole, convinced that Doug would get the message and leave him alone. Instead, the younger man seemed glued to his back. As soon as Ste opened the front door, Doug quickly glided into the flat.

"Doug! I said I wanna be on my own! "

"You don't really wanna that" Doug hissed, narrowing his eyes. "Or maybe you're hiding something."

"What do you mean?"

"Or rather someone."

Ste's eyes widened in surprise. Doug closed the door firmly behind them.

"I saw the two of you. You and Brendan, last night. And I don't think he's dead at all."

"You're raving, Doug."

"I know what I saw. And I saw him, right there," he pointed towards the hallway leading to the bedroom, "perfectly healthy."

Ste looked down. He felt his blood literally drain away from his face.

"The cops have wasted their time and breath to look for him; instead, he was in here all the bloody time, wasn't he?"

"You're wrong." Ste mumbled.

"Brendan!" Doug shouted in the direction of the bedroom. "Haven't you learnt the lecture yet? Do you still insist on endangering people you say you love? "

"Stop it!" Ste cried, shoving him, strongly enough to make him stagger. "He's no longer here!"

"Really?"

Ste nodded. "He's gone. I had to lie to the police to give him time to leave. He didn't want me with him. He said he didn't want to imperil my life never again. "

Ste felt tears knock behind his eyes at the thought that such a thing could happen. Brendan could do it without thinking twice. And that terrified him more than anything else, because he had already done.

Doug got sad. He couldn't bear to see Ste in such a miserable mood. He got closer to him and stroke his shoulders.

"That's the best decision he could make, I guess."

Ste withered him with a sour look on his face, red eyes and a tear that streamed down on his cheek.

"I'll stay with you, okay?"

Ste shook his head. "No, please. Not now."

"Tonight, then. Just a pint at the Dog's. Just you and me, like old times. "

"And John Paul?"

"We're not together anymore."

"Since when?"

"Few days?"

"Oh... I didn't know it. I'm sorry."

Actually, Ste didn't feel the slightest sorrow. He had always disliked John Paul, much more when he used to even remotely mess with his things. Ste would kill him just for the fun of it, and the fact he had found him in bed with Brendan would make the revenge fully justifiable.

"It's not like we're talking a lot lately, and my love life has never been the focus of our discussions." Doug smiled. "So, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"About tonight? Just one drink between two old friends. I have no intention to come on to you. I promise."

"I don't know, Doug. I'm not in mood. I'd rather stay home and sleep. "

"Okay. But if you ever change your mind, I'm there for you. You know always will. "

Ste nodded, cracking a smile.

Doug stepped toward the exit, as Ste called him.

"Doug? You're not gonna call the police, are ya? "

Doug shook his head. "Don't worry, I'm not. For you, not for him."

Said that, he walked out.

Ste sighed in front of the door closing, far from feeling confident.

In the past, Doug had given him reason to doubt him. Why should it be any different now?

"How persistent lad our Douggie is, isn't he?"

Brendan's voice coming from the bedroom startled him and he put his hand to his chest.

"Hey! Pretty taut, ain't ye? "

"Yeah" Ste said, flopping onto the couch and throwing his head back, his eyes closed. "It all was really too much for me to put up with." He sighed. "I'm done!"

"Are ye?"

Brendan started smoothing his index finger over the contour of Ste's jaw.

"Would you talk about it?"

"Later."

Ste opened his eyes and turned his face toward him, placing a light kiss on the finger that kept stroking him.

"I want you," he finally said, looking Brendan intently in the eye.

Brendan didn't need to be told twice and kissed him.

.

"Do you think Doug have believed what I said?"

Brendan shrugged, letting out a grunt. "Good for him," he said lightly. "Otherwise I should kill him."

Ste snapped with an icy glare.

"I was joking," Brendan defended himself .

Ste hit him playfully in the ribs. "It wasn't funny at all."

"It was so bad what happened at the hospital?"

Ste looked away giving off a tired sigh. He did not want to talk about it, even though he had told Brendan he would do it. He decided to skip over all the step of the identification, burying deeply in the back of his mind images about Brendan breaking a dead man's face with a stone. After all, he was the one to murder him, not Brendan.

"I said," he paused to take a deep breath. "I said it was you."

Brendan nodded groaning.

"Was it a mistake?" Ste asked alarming .

"No, it wasn't." Brendan replied quickly. He took off the dirty condom and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. Then wrapped his arm around Ste's shoulders and kissed his forehead, pulling him closer to his chest. "Don't be afraid," he continued, "When the cops will find out the truth, we'll be far away from Hollyoaks and England."

Ste closed his eyes, smiling and relaxing his shoulders. "I can't wait," he said before hiding his face in the crook of Brendan's neck. His cock needed attention again.

Brendan felt Ste getting hard against his thigh and grinned amused. "You will be my death, filthy and insatiable little lad!"

"Don't say that even joking," Ste hissed. He was sick of hearing about death, even if it was a joke.

"Can you hold it back up to the bathroom?" Brendan asked, ogling Ste's erection and flitting his eyebrows in a clear invitation to do unspeakable things.

Ste nodded enthusiastically and literally jumped out of bed thanks to the vitality of his youth and desire.

.

Ste wanted Brendan inside him again. It didn't matter if they had been doing that pretty much every hour throughout the day, if it would hurt him and he would not be able to stand straight for the next twenty-four hours. Ste wanted to feel him, in every possible way, and still wanted to even when Brendan's cock wasn't buried inside him.

Their bodies were wet and slippery, but Brendan's grip was powerful and he held Ste firmly against the edge of the tub as he sank with merciless into him, while Ste urged him to be even more rude, to squeeze him as much as possible because Ste was happy only when he would see the marks on his own skin the following day. And he would wake up, see the marks and would be convinced that he was not dreaming, that Brendan really was there with him, after all the pain he had been forced to bear in the past months.

Brendan set free all his strength inside him with a deep cry, clinging to Ste's hips as if he were the only support to keep from falling on his knees. Ste exploded in Brendan's fist into a whirl of golden sparks and the feeling of Brendan's teeth sinking into his shoulder. Just as he liked.

Brendan brushed his fingers through Ste's hair, placing soft kisses on the upcoming bruises. Ste relaxed his back against Brendan's chest, losing himself into that moment of comfortable ecstasy.

The doorbell seemed to tear his guts off his body and he almost felt like crying.

"I can't believe it," Ste croaked , annoyed. "I'm not going to open, whoever it is."

"You have to, Steven" Brendan said, placing a soft kiss on the side of his head. "Come on!"

Ste pouted, but he knew Brendan was right, and if it was Doug again... well, he would tear his eyes out of his head.

"Don't go anywhere," he whispered to Brendan, as he put his toweling robe on. "I'm getting rid of it in a minute."

Ste pecked him and went to answer the door not expecting to find Danny Lomax on the threshold.

"Hi, Steven" the man said, dropping his smile as soon as he saw his son's angry face.

"What do you want?" Ste asked, gruffly. "I thought I made myself clear last time."

"Please, Steven. We need to talk. Can I come in? "

"What if I told you that you can't?"

"Please."

Ste hesitated for that seemed like minutes, then stepped aside and let him in.

"I don't have much time, though." he clarified. "So be brief."

"Okay," the man nodded, "I told my wife everything."

Danny paused, hoping Ste's facial expression changed and possibly become softer and condescending, but he still stood with his pouting lips, plus he had crossed his arms, the most obvious sign of closing to him.

"I told her about you, about us. I want you to come and stay at our place. We can be a proper family, Steven. We can make up for all the lost time. We-"

Ste cut him off with a dry laugh. "I think it's too late."

"No, Steven. We can do it. "

"Christ!" said Ste, rolling his eyes. "It's been twenty-four years. For more than half of them I've been hoping for someone to come and take me away from that horrid place I lived in. And now when I have my life, my family, the one I created in agony, now you come and offer your home, your family? "

"It's also your family, Steven. We are all your family! "

Ste shook his head in exasperation. "I've my kids, Danny. They are the only family I know and want. Unlike you I've never given up on them. "

Danny frowned, pursing his lips into a thin line. "Leah and Lucas are my grandchildren, don't forget about it. Just imagine, Steven, how nice it would be, all together. You wouldn't be alone anymore and-"

"I'm never alone," Ste interrupted him. "I've my own demons to keep me company and no one can take them away from me. What are you afraid, anyway? That some old pervert gets me drunk with the excuse to creep into my bed? "

Danny froze at those words and his tight lips started quivering.

"Oops!" Ste said, not bothering to hide the crease of his lips lifting in a grin.

"Your time is up, Danny. Go back to your family. They need you. I don't. "

The man drew a piece of paper out from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ste, but the latter did not take it. Danny sighed heavily and set it on the kitchen counter.

"It's my address, in case you change your mind. I only wish your sake, Steven. Think about it, okay? "

Ste let him go without another word.

He breathed deeply to hold his tears back, knowing that he much likely wouldn't see his father again. Then he got back to the only one man who had ever mattered to him.


	13. Love - part 1

**I think I'm done with this chapter, here is the first part, the final one will be much longer, I think the longest thing I've written until now. I have to explain many things and many things will happen, maybe too many for one single chapter. In the meantime, I'd love to know your thoughts about it, if you have some idea about what really happened in Trevor's house. We accept bets.**

**Also I'd like thank all those who have followed me so far, I couldn't have done anything without your encouragement.**

**The comments are fuel for a writer, and I need a lot of fuel, especially since I'm writing in a language that's not mine and I need to work hard on this and improve it. Come on! I don't bite, usually, I promise.**

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**Chapter 7**

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**part 1**

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**Love**

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**.**

_I can't forget it, though I've tried_  
_I know you regret it, love,_  
_you told me so many times._

_But I still wonder,_  
_why..._  
_You left with her_  
_and left me behind_

_Take your hands off him_  
_'cause he's the only one that I _  
_have ever loved_  
_And please don't find her skin_  
_When you turn the lights out_

_I can't erase it_  
_from my mind_  
_I just replay it, over,_  
_Think of it all the time._  
_But I don't want to imagine_  
_words you spoke to her that night._  
_Naked bodies look like porcelain,_  
_You both knew I'd be bleeding inside..._

[Love - Daughter]

.

.

.

Ste found the bathroom empty, neat and in order in appearance, the dirty and wet towels placed in the basket.

An unreasonable fearfulness struck him from the inside and he rushed into the bedroom. Brendan was dressing, remaining hidden from his gaze.

His sudden gestures, stiff posture, all of it confirming that the magic moment of their afterglow had magically disappeared.

"Brendan?" Ste called him shyly.

The man replied with a muffled grunt.

"Brendan ... you're not going somewhere, right? "

"Trevor" the man answered lapidary, without turning.

"Right now?" Ste snapped, horrified. "But we were- It's too soon. It's not dark yet. "

The sound of the zip fastener up was his only answer. Then Brendan turned, his lips tight.

"Brendan?"

"Brendan what?"

Ste gasped for a moment. He had only a little doubt about why Brendan was reacting that way, but strangely he felt deeply guilty.

"Why did you say nothing about him?"

"I-I-" Ste stammered in response .

"Your dad, Steven. Fuck! It's not something you forget from one day to another. "

Ste took in a deep breath. "Why not? I did it for more than twenty years. "

Brendan shook his head in exasperation and passed him, going straight in the living room.

Ste slipped behind him and forced him to turn around to face him, pulling him by his arm.

"We're not having a discussion about him, right?"

"He's your dad, Steven. And he want you with him. "

"Yeah! A little late, isn't it? "

"Has he other children?" Brendan asked, looking him straight in the eye.

Ste nodded. "Two adorable girls."

Brendan let out a smile. The fury that Ste had witnessed up to a second before seemed gone and he felt his heart warm just for that hint of a smile.

"Brendan, look. I don't know them and feel anything for any of them and-"

"You said your sisters were adorable."

Yeah, I did, " he replied awkwardly. "But this doesn't mean I want to see them. But-but what's the point? Do you really want me to consider my dad's proposal? After all our plans? Seriously? "

"It's a possibility not to be discarded, Steven. None can say between the two of us it can work. "

Ste darkened, but even if he tried to understand what Brendan would have said, that was a possibility not to be consider at all. He wanted things with Brendan worked. No other option was possible.

Ste put his hands at each side of Brendan's arms into a strong and reassuring grip.

"I love you, Brendan. It's you the only one I want. No stranger coming out of the blue and willing to play happy family, just to relieve his guilt, will able to make me feel any different about this. I'm not willing to give up on you for anything in the world. "

"Are ye? Not even for your kids, Steven? Do Leah and Lucas mean less than me to you? "

"What's this?"

Ste lowered his arms, all of a sudden too heavy, and frowned.

"You haven't thought about that, have ye? Well, do it now. Think about it carefully, Steven. Never a Christmas together, never a trip. Your kids will never know of my existence, because I'm dead to everyone, and when I say everyone I mean friends, family, Leah and Lucas in first place, and I'll be dead for my boys as well. "

Ste's face whitened. He had completely forgotten of Brendan's kids. An unforgivable mistake. But there had to be a solution. There was a solution to everything.

"There is no way out, Steven" said Brendan, as if was reading his thoughts. "I'm supposed to stay forever a shadow in the darkness, because teaching your kids and mine to lie would be the meanest thing to do. "

Ste didn't add a word, because he knew Brendan was completely right.

"Exactly!" Brendan exclaimed, tersely. "And now, you should do me a favor."

"What favour?" Ste asked in a faint, hoarse voice .

"I want you to call Doug and meet him at the pub and stay in there till late."

Ste widened his eyes in horror. "What? I wanna go with you."

"No way!" Brendan snapped, then took a deep breathe and tried to sound much quieter. "It's the only thing I ask you. I've no idea how long this thing will take and I don't want you to stay alone tonight. "

"I'm not a child," Ste complained.

"Just do it!" Said Brendan, categorical.

Ste nodded, grudgingly. "Right," he added, his heart throbbing painfully in his throat, "Just-just be careful, okay? I don't trust him at all. "

"He's gonna do nothing," said Brendan, stretching his lips into a slightly bitter smile .

"How can you be sure of that?" Ste asked frowning .

"I know it," said Brendan firmly. "Trevor owes me a big favor."

"I don't get it."

"Trust me," Brendan replied reassuringly, before kissing and holding him tight.

.

.

.

Ste had never had a real friend, not really. There had been people who had ended up into his life for a while. Some of them had played on him; Tony was the closest thing to a father he had ever known_**;**_ Doug, the man he was about to spend the rest of his life with, yet Ste barely tolerated him now. Anyway, none of them had filled the huge void always been in his life as much as Brendan had done.

Ste entered the pub a bit hesitant. There were two people in the world he wouldn't absolutely meet with that night, Danny and John Paul, and fortunately neither of them showed his face. Doug, however, was already in, sitting at a table with a pint ahead. Ste joined him.

Darren walked over them to say 'hi' and take their order. Ste thought that he was rather out of curiosity than anything else. The rumors about Brendan Brady 's death had already gotten around the village, and everyone was eager to get first-hand news. Darren was another acquaintance he could not be called as a friend, if only for the ease he dispensed heartfelt advice and kicked you out of his bar at the same time.

Yet, Ste had always been the strange one to everybody.

He had no friends in there. Even Doug could not be called that way, because no matter how hard he tried, he would not have been able to feel with Ste, even if the latter would open his heart to him completely. With Brendan was enough to exchange a look each other, instead.

_Yet he sent you away, knowing you're not into all this_, said a little voice in his head, the same one that was tormenting him to the rhythm of the doubts in his heart, and he could only answer that Brendan had his reasons, and Brendan's each good reason mostly was good for him, too.

.

The wind that whipped his hair and blew up his coat was forewarning a storm. The evening was perfect to walk down the street without running the risk of bumping into someone who could recognise him. Anyway Brendan walked up at quick-pace to Trevor's house, situated just outside the village, protectin his own face both from the biting cold and an undesired encounter with a hunched gait.

He had no idea about the living way Trevor had acquired in the last time, but if he remembered correctly, excessive self-confidence had led the man to hardly trust others. He had always kept a weapon with him, he still lived in an isolated house, no dogs, no bodyguards, but had put a simple video intercom at the gate. Brendan didn't need that. He climbed the backyard fence and a moment later was stepping on the gravel driveway towards the front door. But Brendan was wrong. Trevor had become more cautious over time and had placed cameras on the back of the house, and before he could knock he found himself in front of the open door.

"Brendan!" Trevor welcomed him with a toothy grin. "There was no need to come like a thief. You're a special guest. "

Brendan replied with a spasm of his upper lip. He had never liked Trevor; too much like that animal picture he wore tattooed on his neck. At that moment, he had no need to wonder about the most venomous between the two of them, but he wondered whether he had fucked all up entering the scorpion's lair.

"Take seat, Brendan. Something to drink? "

"No, thanks" Brendan declined both offers. "I just need my papers."

Trevor clicked his tongue under the palate, lightly disappointed. "I notice you aren't enjoying the company, and yet I owe you my life. If it hadn't been for you I wouldn't be here at this moment."

"Yeah," Brendan replied with a sigh. Saving Trevor's life Royle could be counted among the most colossal mistakes of his life.

"I might do for you much more than giving you false papers, Brendan. You know that."

Brendan flicked his eyebrow upward.

Trevor smiled complacent and headed towards a medium-sized picture hanging on the wall in the dining room. Trevor pushed it aside and dialed the combination to the safe hidden behind it. Brendan walked over him and took the yellow envelope that Trevor handed him and most likely contained his new documents.

"You've nothing else to give me, Trevor?" Brendan asked, eyeing the money stacked in the safe.

Trevor answered with a strained smile. "I could offer you much more than that," he said with a soft voice. "A deal."

.

.

Ste had been drinking more than necessary since when he was sitting in the pub. Doug had spared no expense and now his head was spinning, light and carefree. He would not have been able to find his way home even if he tried with all his strength. That was why Doug walked along with him and opened the door of his flat for him. Ste was too drunk to realise that it could be quite embarrassing from that moment onwards. He could only hope that Brendan was still out. Ste realised vaguely Doug slipping off his shoes, helping him to lie down onto the bed, but he became more careful when he felt Doug's arms lingering a bit too much around his shoulders and his lips too close to his face.

" What are you doing , Doug ? "

" I take care of you," he heard him whisper in his ear.

Ste shook his head, invaded by a sickening feeling. " I don't need any nanny, Doug. Go home! "

"Ste , I-"

"Get your hands off me, Doug . I don't want you. "

Despite his vision blurred, Ste could see distinctly Doug's disappointed expression. Once, he would not mind sharing a bed with anyone, but now there was only one person in the world who could occupy that place back, and certainly not Doug Carter.

"Please , leave me alone," he said again , his voice slurred. " Just leave."

Then he rolled on his side and fell asleep.

Doug watched him for a while, undecided what to do. Finally, he stood up and walked towards the door with his hangdog air .

Brendan came out of the other bedroom as soon as he heard the door close and silently entered the room where Ste slept unaware and giving off a strong odor of alcohol. Instead, he smelled of clean and bubble bath. He washed himself twice since he had came back from Trevor's and it still did not seem enough to him. Sighing heavily, he lay down next to Ste and laid a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, he turned away, trying to get to sleep.

At some point , he felt Ste turn toward him, his arm wrap his waist and his face pressed against his back. Brendan gently grasped Ste's fingers in his, because if Ste had slided his hand up and touched Brendan's chest, he would clearly heard his heart pounding too loud.


	14. Love - part 2

**Last time I wrote that this chapter should be the final one, but it would have been too heavy to read, so I changed its title, from 'Still' to 'Love', while 'Still' will be the final one (about an epilogue, I don't know yet). Too many things have to happen, too many cliffhangers, and it would be illogical to mix all together in a single chapter. Thanks for showing your love, it means a lot to me. I hope there are not too many mistakes here.**

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**Chapter 7**

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**Love**

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**Part 2**

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**.**

A herd of enraged cows had entered in his head during the night. There could be no other explanation.

Ste unsteadily got out of the bed and tried to reach the door handle before his face could reach the floor. Getting to the bathroom and the medicine cabinet were his next aim.

After having taken an aspirin, the ferocious rumble in his head started dying down. At the same time, he began to clearly smell the stink emanating from his clothes and himself. A nauseating mix of sweat and stale alcohol.

He quickly rid of his clothes and flung under the water. It was a blessing.

As he came out of the bath-tube he noticed there was no towel in order to dry himself. He shrugged and went to pick one from the laundry basket. He grabbed the towel from the top of the pile and after he dried his face, he glimpsed a plastic bag hidden among the clothes. It was filled with money, roughly what Trevor had stolen from him, plus a bonus of twenty thousand pounds at least.

Ste winced as the bathroom's door was opened.

"He gave you, didn't he? There's more, though. " Ste said, uncertain.

In silence Brendan made his way to the toilet bowl for pissing.

"Brendan?"

"I can be quite persuasive if I want," said Brendan sleepily, while the images of himself throwing quickly the cash from the safe to the bag flashed before his eyes.

Then, as he was in a hypnotic state, had up his boxers and washed his hands. He came back to himself only when Ste kissed him on the cheek, and so Brendan turned around and his arms drifted down to Ste's waist, still naked and wet. The mere contact made them both get hard.

"So this" Ste began, swinging his hips obscenely and lifting the bag up, "is ours?"

"It's yours" Brendan replied in a hoarse and panting voice.

Ste melted into a bright smile. Thankfully they're having no more worries about money .

He pulled away from Brendan and pull a 50 pounds note out of a pack, putting the left back in the basket. Then got in the bedroom and looked for clean clothes.

"I'm gonna get something good for breakfast," he said as his head cropped out of the collar of a t-shirt. Then he took the way out. "And we're gonna celebrate in the end," he concluded, gloating over him, lust-filled eyes that struck Brendan's groin like electricity.

Finally he sent him a kiss in the air and left the house. Brendan leaned his back against the frame door and sighed, closing his eyes. He needed another shower.

.

.

"Ste, wait! Ste! "

The young man was just a step from out of the Price slice's entrance. When he turned around, Doug was quickly walking toward him.

Ste tried to get rid of him with the utmost kindness, but he didn't work very well.

"I'm in a hurry, Doug. Any urgent? "

"No-no," stammered the younger, "I just wanted to say sorry about last night. You know, I was very drunk. "

"Sorry about what?"

Doug stood motionless and silent, unable to figure out if Ste was sincere or simply annoyed by him.

Ste snorted impatiently. "Look, Doug. Whatever happened last night, anything you've done or said, I forgive you. I don't remember anything from the third last shot. Thank you for bringing me home... because was it you, wasn't it?"

Doug nodded glumly.

"Well, thank you then. Now, you'll excuse me, I've gotta buy something to eat. I'm starving. "

Doug cracked a brief smile and pointed out the Deli "Better than our place?"

Ste looked at the Deli and then the shop what he was about to set foot in, torn up. Then he turned to Doug and smiled back. "Okay."

Doug showed him the trays filled with a massive amount of good things, from sweet to savory food, and invited him to pick a little bit of everything .

"Help yourself , Ste. "

"Actually ," Ste began, hesitant. " I'd like to bring it home. "

"Why?"

Ste shrugged and Doug frowned, as only then he had realised it all.

"He's still in your house, isn't he? He's never gone away. "

"Who?"

" Brendan! " Doug answered in a loud voice , so that Ste had to shush him to lower the tone.

" I don't know what you're talking about, Doug. "

Doug had tears in his eyes. "I'm not gonna come and bring breakfast to you in prison, Ste. Because that 's exactly what will happen because of him. "

Ste's gaze hardened and his shoulders stiffened.

" Read my lips, Doug : He. Has . Gone . "

" I don't believe you. Not anymore. "

The bell on the door that opened interrupted their discussion and Ste felt his heart grabbed tight at the same moment.

The police, again. And, for a nanosecond, he thought that Doug had grassed him .

"Mr. Hay? Mr Carter? " DI Bishop greeted both of them with a nod. " We saw you get in here, Mr Hay. Won't you mind if I'm gonna to ask some questions? "

" About what? "

Bishop seemed pretty annoyed by Ste's rude tone.

"Mr. Hay, this is an informal questioning, but if you refuse to cooperate I'll be forced to formally invite you to the police station.

Ste's heart began to pound painfully against his ribs , and despite he tried to remain calm, his fear came through in his weak knees.

" What's the matter?" he asked more gently .

"Murder, Mr. Hay. "

Ste felt the hairs behind his neck rise and Doug's hand on his back in a reassuring rub.

"Mu-mu-" he tried to repeat .

"Yeah . Where were you last night between twenty-two and midnight, Mr. Hay? "

"I don't get it . "

"Do you? "

"I mean... how can you accuse me of a murder ? "

"We're not accusing you, Mr. Hay. Procedure would be different, wouldn't it? But we noticed that you often have met with the victim lately. "

"The victim ? " Ste replied , even more confused . "Who?"

"Royle , Mr. Hay. Trevor Royle . "

Ste whitened. "Tre - Trevor's dead? "

Bishop nodded. " His cleaning woman found him this morning in a pool of blood.

"Ste was with me last night," intervened Doug promptly". "We have been staying together at the pub from nine to one, and he was... well ... completely out of kilter. Then I walked him home and I stayed with him until he fell asleep. It had been two when I left. "

Bishop nodded in understanding. "Other witnesses? "

It was Doug again to respond. "Anyone attending the Dog in the pond last night, of course. You may ask. Darren Osborne, one of the owners, also sat with us at some point."

Ste failed to let out a sigh of relief. The news about Trevor's death had opened a chasm inside him, in which there was no place for a piece of tranquility. He needed to run back home and see Brendan.

He saw Bishop write something on his notebook and then he put it away almost immediately in his pocket.

" Well, Mr. Hay. Sorry for having disturbed you. "

Ste replied with a blink of his eyes, because if he had said a single word he would run the risk of puking his own guts .

"I gotta go home!" said Ste later, more to himself, as soon as the police left the Deli.

"Hang on!" said Doug as he took off his apron, "I'm going with you."

"No, Doug! Please. "

"It's all pointless, Ste. I know Brendan is still hiding at your home. And this other murder- "

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb, Ste. We're thinking the same thing. I can read it on your face. "

Ste sniffled noisily, tightening his nostrils. "You don't know what you're talking about. Just so you know, Brendan doesn't walk around to killing people unless-"

Ste was going to say 'he has a valid reason', but he stopped. "I gotta go!" He repeated, while Doug threw some croissants and salami rolls in a paper bag.

"And I'm still going with you," replied Doug, peremptory.

Ste and Doug argued on the way up to the block of council flats. Ste did not want Doug's breathe on his neck at that moment and Doug were all determined not to let him alone.

"Go back to your work, Doug!" Ste hissed coldly.

Doug shook his head and Ste had no choice but to shove him away from the door, in order to quickly get into the house and lock him out.

"Just leave!"

But Doug looked very steady on his feet even after that gesture. Ste had never got to see him so firmly convint, but Doug couldn't have chosen a worse moment for growing a backbone.

Ste did not care. He needed to talk with Brendan and he would do it at any cost.

Before Doug noticing anything, Ste punched him in the face sending him tumbling to the ground.

Doug touched his lip that had started bleeding, his gaze stunned, direct to him. Ste's fist still raised at mid air.

Ste felt a fleeting pang of regretting, but he immediately hushed it up and turned to enter home, going to leave Doug to his fate and put solid walls between himself and the world outside.

"What the hell is going on?"

Before he could grasp and turn the door handle, Ste froze to the spot. That voice.

For months he hadn't been hearing it and he could not tell he was happy now.

He turned around cautiously, hoping he was wrong. But he wasn't and the mere sight of her instantaneously clogged up his throat with a lump of dread and rage.

Cheryl Brady was closing the taxi door, her puzzled eyes shifted from Ste, petrified, to Doug, still lying down on the dusty walkway.

Cheryl paid the taxi driver who went away, then walked over Doug for helping him out.

"Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I think Ste might better than me" said Doug in a tearful tone. "I give up. "

Said that, he walked away, after having given Ste a fire eye.

Ste picked up the bag with the food from the ground and went to open the house door.

Finally, with a silent and tight smile, he let Cheryl and her luggage in.

"What happened?" Cheryl asked, undeterred.

"You're not here just to talk about my marital problems, ain't ya?"

Cheryl shook her head. "Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Ste shrugged, then drew a deep breath. "Get the point, Cheryl."

"Okay," she said, walking toward the middle of the living room, arms folded "Why did you tell the police that the found body was Brendan? My brother's not dead. He can't be. "

Her eyes filled with tears. "You-you you were wrong. I know you were."

Ste had not thought of her when he made that decision, as well anyone who cares about Brendan. Love can make a person the most selfish in the world. And he was very selfish when it was about Brendan.

"I've asked the police for a DNA testing-"

Ste stared at her, horrified. "You what?"

Cheryl was left dumbfounded by Ste's reaction. She did not understand.

"I've to go to the hospital in an hour for being taken a sample from me. What's your problem? "

Ste felt his own body shake like an earthquake and put his hands to his face to try to calm down, but he knew it would be vain.

"CHRIST, CHERYL" he shouted, pointing his index finger in her face, her mouth open in disbelief. "EVERYTHING WAS SORTED OUT. EVERYTHING! HOW COULD YOU BE SO STUPID? HOW? "

Ste flopped down on the couch, his head in his hands and tears that was pushing behind his eyes, muttering incomprehensible swears under his breathe.

"I don't understand." she cried, approaching him.

"'Course you don't understand! If you had done at least once in your life we wouldn't have been at this point!" He snarled, gritting his teeth. He had no longer strength for shouting out.

It was over. Plans, life, happiness. Everything had ended up straight to hell.

Cheryl tried a quiet approach, but Ste shook his hand off his shoulder.

"Ste" she began, his voice trembling, "Why are you talking this way. What have I done? "

Ste clenched his fists and jumped to his feet so vehemently that Cheryl jumped in turn backwards.

"Do you really want to know what have you done? Well, I'm gonna tell you! "

"ENOUGH, STEVEN!"

Brendan's voice boomed through the hallway, but only when his steps leaded him slowly in front of them, Cheryl started sobbing in his chest, her hand pressed against his mouth.

"Bren! Bren! "She exclaimed. "I knew it. I knew you were alive! "

Having said that, she flung herself on Brendan, wrapping her arms around him in a mighty hug, and covered him with kisses.

Ste kept quiet to the spot, his fists still lying at his sides, his head down and breathing heavy.

When the two siblings broke their hug and looked at each other with affection, Ste was already well away from the house.

.

.

.

The man snapped a cold laugh, shaking his head in disbelief or as if he had faced a very stupid person.

"I'm being serious!" Ste said, offended.

"Are you?"

The man crossed his fingers in front of him, his elbows on the desk. "Let me think, then. My wife left me, there's a stalker somewhere that haunts me and I'm about to lose my job. Why should I send all the rest to hell? For you? "

Ste hastened to occupy the chair in front of him, leaning over the desk and talk to him as close as possible.

"Cash, Doc. A lot of it. "

The man cracked a skeptical laughter, but this aborted immediately. That previous word had already caught his attention, but he did not know if he could trust Ste. The boy had already betrayed him once, and he would risk not only to lose his job now, but also to be locked up for years.

"How much?" he asked, trying to play his game.

"How much do you want?"

The man thought carefully for long seconds. "Two hundred thousand." He set, emphasizing carefully every syllable and enjoying Ste's reaction.

With two hundred thousand pounds he could solve all his problems: rub out the stalker, win Mercedes back and get a fresh start with her somewhere else.

Ste did not move a muscle of his face, as if every day he were accustomed to handling similar sums.

"Okay," he agreed, "you'll get your two hundred grands."

.

Ste spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon at the park. He wouldn't go back home and have a confrontation with Cheryl once again.

He hadn't really had it with her in the early days after Brendan had been arrested, or at least it was what he had been thinking. But later, the more time went by the more resentment towards her increased, to such an extent he had stopped keeping in touch with her.

Autumn was coming up and Ste had gone out without a jacket. Sitting on a bench, he curled up on himself, rubbing his arms and blowing on his hands, while his mind began to give birth to plans and backup plans until the sun leaned on the horizon.

When he got back home, his skin was livid, but at least he did not find Cheryl to wait for him.

"Has She gone?"

Brendan nodded. "She preferred to go to the hotel."

Ste nodded in response and took the direction of the bathroom. He needed a hot shower.

"Steven!" Brendan stopped him, slinking behind him. "It was not her fault. She did what everyone else-"

"Yeah, sure." Ste interrupted him, keeping to head for the bathroom. "Can we not talk anymore about it, please?"

Brendan nodded, smiling, and grabbed his arm, pushing him against the wall. Then he crept his hands under Ste's shirt. In comparison to his skin, Brendan's hands were very hot and Ste lowed with pleasure.

Even Brendan's breathe was hot and seemed to be fire on his lips.

"Where have you been?" he asked, stroking the back of his head.

"Around, for a walk."

"With who?"

"Alone." he replied, lifting his chin and giving free access to Brendan's lips against his neck. "I needed to be on my own for a while."

Brendan interrupted his kisses and started looking into his eyes, eyes that almost immediately slided away from his accurate analyse. Before Brendan could carry on with other questions, Ste slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.

When Ste came out of the bathroom it was dark outside, and Brendan arranged some food for him on the table.

"I'm not hungry," said Ste wearily, clutching in his toweling robe.

Then he went into the bedroom and lay down, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.

Brendan sighed heavily and joined him, lying down at his side.

"Steven?"

"Hmm?"

Brendan paused, turning on his side and wrapping his arm around Ste's waist.

"It couldn't have worked anyway," he began, relating to the fake identification. "Cheryl-"

"I said I didn't want to talk about it" he cut him off with a stern voice. "Cheryl's not the problem. You are. "

Brendan lifted on his arms and placed seated, staring at him puzzled.

"Me?"

"Forget it!" Ste cut him off "What about you and Trevor?"

Brendan stared at him in silence.

"The police found him this morning. I know it was you. "

At the moment Brendan looked down, Ste knew he had hit the mark, and it felt like falling into a bottomless pit.

"Why? Why did you do such a stupid thing? "

"Steven ... I ... I had to. "

"The police could discover you. I-I might die if that happened. "

Brendan reached out to caress his face. "It won't happen. I promise you. "

Ste snorted, then he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to him. "You've made so many promises, Brendan. I don't know if I can still trust you. "

"Trevor was a very bad person, Steven. I had no choice. "

"I know the way he was, Brendan. And you should have had nothing to do with him. "

Brendan sighed and leaned his forehead between Ste's shoulder blades.

"I had to defend myself, Steven. I had no choice. "

Ste stiffened, then turned slowly. Gently, he cupped Brendan's face in his hands.

"Did he threaten you?"

Brendan closed his eyes and nodded, lulling himself in Ste's hug.

.

"_I could offer you much more than that, Brendan. A deal._ "

_Brendan grabbed the envelope with his documents and put it in his coat pocket ._

_"Go on."_

_"I want you to work for me . "_

_Brendan snorted a sneer, shaking his head slightly ._

_"Me? For you?"_

_"Yep! Just imagine the money you could do. I'm gonna detect the Loft, your old club, and then branch out to Liverpool and Manchester. You might direct one of the club and we can do business together throughout the country. "_

_Brendan had been listening to him attentively until then._

_"You forget one thing, Trevor. I can only be the boss of me . "_

_Trevor showed all his teeth in a huge grin. " I knew you'd say that, Brendan. I'm offering you a partnership. You and I, partners in crimes just like the old good times . "_

_" I'm done with those times , Trevor . "_

_The man raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Do you want me to believe that you would be willing to settle down with someone, a quiet life, but still half a life? "_

_Brendan stiffened and his upper lip started twitching nervously ._

_"Exactly, Brendan. Half a Life . "_

_Trevor poured some whiskey and once again Brendan declined his invitation to drink ._

_The man took a big sip and pointed his glass and index finger toward him._

_"Let me tell you a story. A few nights ago a loyal customer of my club comes to me and asks me about a person he had seen wandering around in there a couple of times. Not to drag it out, that old man offers me ten grands just to go to bed with that person. Ten thousand pounds, Brendan, for a single miserable night. Well, you know I have nose for business. I understood that sex of sort can make you much richer than drug, and no one gets hurt . "_

_Brendan's face was fully contracted, his lips reduced to a thin line ._

_"That's a kind of business I don't want to get in . "_

_Trevor took another sip of whiskey and placed the glass just emptied on the desk ._

_"Such a pity, Brendan." he chirped, after having clicked his own tongue. "You have to know that I'm being in touch with a couple of friends who can bring in this Country girls, and boys, otherwise doomed to starve in their native countries. Teens who could satisfy the most perverse fantasy of clients like the one I told you. Do you want to know the funny side in this? "_

_"No, but I'm sure you're dying to tell me. "Brendan replied , ironically._

_"The guy my client wants desperately in his bed is neither foreign nor a teenager. I like call him 'little scrawny sack'. "_

_Suddenly, Brendan lashed out against Trevor, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pushing him against the edge of the desk. The impact sent half the things on to the floor._

.

" Brendan ? "

Ste's voice stopped his train of thoughts and Brendan hummed in response in the darkness of the room.

"Trevor was a piece of shit, a cold-blooded murderer. You've done a big favor to humanity as far as I'm concerned. Just - just I don't want you to be caught. Maybe - "

Brendan tried to distinguish the expression of Ste's gaze barely visible in the darkness. " You need go away as first and then I might reach you , " he concluded in a trembling voice .

"Maybe," Brendan answered back as he put his head on the pillow.

Ste crawled towards him and then lied down on top of him and softly kissed his lips as his hand slowly slipped down. He broke away only for a few seconds to take off the robe and kneel to his side. Then he lifted Brendan's shirt up, and began to draw the line of his abdominals with his lips. Brendan looked at him in silence, low growls coming from the depths of his throat.

He caught a white glow of his smile as Ste looked up at him; he could see his outline, his skin, smooth and almost luminescent; feel his tongue, lazy and gentle at first, then more energetic and closer and closer to his groin and his cock, erect and needy for his mouth.

Brendan started pushing into that cavity, warm, wet, created specifically to welcome him; a hand clawing strong through his hair, the free one to squeeze his butt.

Brendan could not see Ste's hole, but he could feel it under his touch and, after having moistened his finger with his own saliva, he began to insert a finger inside him, and then another until he felt Ste moan with pleasure around his erection. Brendan gave another powerful thrust into Ste's mouth, then lightly tugged his hair to stop him. He unwrapped a condom in a moment and pushed Ste with his face on the pillow, ass in the air, round and inviting. Brendan slipped into him all at once, making him roar in surprise and, perhaps, pain, but it did not last long. As Brendan started pushing at a rapid pace, making the bed creak loudly and the headboard bumped against the wall, Ste went to meet his thrusts with equal intensity.

In the end, Ste fell asleep in a mess of cum and sweat, while Brendan remained for a while to absorb the comforting warmth and breathing of the body lying next to his, until he decided to get up and head to the bathroom to wash himself approximately. He put his clothes back and his coat on. He pulled out of one of the pockets a piece of paper with on a name and address. He read it for the umpteenth time, even though there was no need, and finally walked out of the door towards Daniel Lomax's house.


	15. Still - part 1

**I admit it, I was expecting much more reviews to the last chapter and maybe I overestimated what I like. Too bad. Well, we're close to the end of this tragedy, so I hope some of the silent readers come forward to make me know what they think, even swear words are welcome. Joke, I could die if that happened. Thanks to the few who have commented, guest, Stormzzz, Runningshoes, and my little Hanni whose I am the pain in her delicious ass. If someone care my twitter account is SusySharf and my tumblr scar7tumblr. .com. Grazie!**

* * *

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 8**

**.**

**.**

**Still**

**.**

**.**

**part 1**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_I'll wrap up my bones  
and leave them  
out of this home  
Out on the road._

Two feet standing on a principle  
two hands longing for each other's warmth  
cold smoke seeping out of colder throats  
darkness falling, leaves nowhere to go.

It's spiralling down,  
biting words like a wolf howling  
hate is spitting out each other's mouths  
but we're still sleeping like we're lovers.

Still with feet touching  
still with eyes meeting  
still our hands match  
still with hearts beating.

[Still - Daughter]_  
_

**.**

**.**

"Danny Lomax lived in Puddington, a village about six miles west of Chester and ten miles east of Hollyoaks. Brendan had asked Cheryl to book a cab in his stead before she went to the hospital and from there to the hotel. The cab had arrived on time and Brendan had gone over there calm and relaxed, as though he hadn't been an inmate of Her Majesty's prisons until a few days before. He had left the taxi driver waiting for him on the street where the Lomaxes lived, having enough money to pay for it. Brendan had been also lucky to find Danny's phone number on a Christmas card buried at the bottom of a drawer in the bedroom. Again Cheryl had call for arranging an appointment with him. The man didn't ask many questions. Knowing that she was a friend of his son and wanted to talk about him was enough for Danny to accept to meet her.

However, the man did not expect to come face to face with a convict escaped out of prison instead of the pleasant woman who had phoned him in the morning.

"Let me guess," he said with an ironic tone, leaning against the door frame. "You're not Cheryl."

"I'm her brother" the man on the threshold answered back. "Brendan."

Danny opened wide his eyes, staring at the man in perplexed astonishment and recognised him even before he uttered his full name.

"Brendan Brady."

Danny clung tightly to the wood of the door as if his life depended on it. He was standing in front of his son's ex, a serial killer and dangerous fugitive all at one time, and he was alone at home, because he had foolishly convinced Sam and their girls to go out for pizza on their own.

"May I come in?" Brendan asked politely, then looking around he added: "It 's pretty cold out here. I just want to talk about Steven. I promise. "

Danny eventually let him in, but as he closed the door he leaned against it, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a loud puff as if he were preparing for a battle.

Brendan spun around apparently and favourably impressed for what he could see about the house. "It's nice here. Congratulations. "

"Thanks," Danny croaked, unable to speak in full voice at that moment. "Actually, we decided to sell it and move to Hollyoaks in order to stay closer to Steven."

"Don't do that!" said Brendan instantly.

Danny looked at him quizzically.

"If you really want Steven's sake, you need to bring him out of there. That place is toxic. "

Danny managed to hint a smile, but that trailed off as soon as he got that Brendan had been talking seriously. Only later he realised what the man had actually meant to say.

"Do you really think that I should bring Steven to live here?"

Brendan nodded.

Danny was more and more confused, but at the same time he felt strangely relaxed. Suddenly, he was no longer scared of Brendan, or at least not as much as he had been a minute before.

"Where are my manners?" he said at some point, and invited his guest to follow him to the living room. "Take seat. I usually don't like drink, but there should be some Irish whiskey somewhere. "

Brendan smiled in response. He really needed to have something strong. After all, he was giving up on Steven for good, for the third or fourth time maybe, and putting the life of the man he loved in the hands of another man.

They ended up comfortably sitting facing each other, as if they had done that for a lifetime.

"I - " Danny began after a short sip of whiskey, " I don't think Steven would like living here. He told me straight out he doesn't want me in his life. "

" I know," Brendan nodded, I was there while you guys were talking.

Danny stared at him open-mouthed.

" Steven and I... got back together since I got out, in spite of myself . "

"But it's risky! " Danny protested vehemently . "He could find himself in trouble . You can't let-"

"I know, " Brendan interrupted him, gloomily. "For this reason this story must end as soon as possible and I want you by his side when I'll go away for good. "

" I don't understand . "

Brendan took a deep breath . "I'm gonna hand myself into the police in a few days. Guys like me are not meant to be free and get hitched with the person they love. "

"Do you really love him? "Danny asked, even though he already had the answer within his heart, and not because of all the questions he had ask around about his son, but rather something he could feel under his skin, like liquid heat .

"More than life itself ," Brendan answered sighing. " And do you want to know what made me fall in love with him amongst other things? By the look of him you wouldn't think that, but despite all the shit his life gave him, he never gave up. He always had a spark inside him that led him to believe that it would be better the next day and there was always something good in people. People like me. "

"It's a nice quality ," said Danny, visibly struck by those words.

"But it's not enough to be happy," Brendan added. "That's why I decided to let him alone. I'm sure he'll be better off without me . "

Danny drank his whiskey left all in one breathe and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "

"This will break his heart, isn't it? "Danny said, thoughtfully.

"I know, but this time you'll be there for him to pick up the pieces." said Brendan, darkly. "Don't give up on him. Even though at first he acts like a grumpy and you're exhausted, don't not let him down. He's been disappointed too many times. "

"What about you?"

Brendan emptied his glass and sighed heavily. "I'm the person who has disappointed him the most."

Danny shifted his gaze to the bottle resting on the coffee table, contemplating to pour another drink. That was an evening to engrave in memories. Never and ever he would have pictured that, amiably chatting with the man who had made his son's life a living hell, yet he was the same man who would come at first place in Steven's life, despite his efforts to remove him from his privileged position.

In the end he decided not to drink. He needed to think clearly.

"He loves you."

"I'm a murderer," Brendan answered back.

Danny frowned. For a moment he had been thinking that all he knew about Brendan Brady was legend, that he was nothing more than a poor man whom justice had hammered away, but that statement refuted his doubts.

"Last night, while Steven was drinking with Douglas Carter at the pub," continued Brendan, " I was stabbing a man in his heart. My hand has been sticking against his chest until I took his life away from him. I had to do it, for Steven. He would never be free with such a scumbag on his heels. You have read about him in the newspaper today, haven't ye? Trevor Royle. "

Danny gasped for a moment, both because of the confession just heard and the coldness Brendan had been talking about it with. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up .

"Steven doesn't deserve such a monster," he added finally.

"You-you" Danny stammered while the fear felt before was coming back to him, " Did you kill him ... for Steven?"

Brendan nodded. "I already did it before. I just wanted to protect him, but he never would have been in danger if it hadn't been for me."

Danny sniffled, covering his mouth with his hand and murmuring "Oh my God."

Brendan was about to get up and leave. His job was finished.

"Wait!" said Danny. "Steven will never accept me in his life."

"You have to insist" Brendan advised.

"I mean, it's not just for the fact that I abandoned him when he was just a kid. He thinks that I'm a pervert. "

Brendan frowned, puzzled, and sat back in his armchair.

"He told you, didn't he, how we met? "

"Until yesterday I didn't know anything of your existence," he clarified.

"Well, I picked him up in a bar, then we went to his place."

As soon as Danny dropped the bombshell, Brendan jumped on his feet hitting the coffee table ahead with his knees, the empty glasses crashed to the floor. It seemed almost an explosion.

"You what?"

Danny jumped up in turn. "Nothing happened," he hastened to say. "I didn't know it. I didn't. God wanted me to see the postcards I sent him all these years and a photo with his mum, so I ran away. I was so shocked that it took me weeks to get the courage and tell him who I really was. God! For twenty-three years I've been dreaming of hugging my son, and not that way. He thinks I did it on purpose, but I didn't. How could I? I can be many wrong things, but not that."

Brendan saw the tears filling the man's eyes, while his own jaw crunched under the unrelenting wave of his anger, his fist clenched at his sides.

"It's the truth. I swear. "

Brendan was breathing noisily. Years of abuse and harassment had flashed before his eyes, yet staring at Danny Lomax in the eye, he realised that the man was genuine, and the wave of anger gradually started blowing over.

"I must've lost my sheen," he said with a disturbing grin that made Danny's blood run cold. "A few days ago I could've killed you."

"And now?" Danny asked, trembling.

Brendan slumped back in the armchair and reclined his head, closing his eyes. "Give me a minute."

Danny remained silent to wach him, wondering what had led his son to fall in love with him. Brendan Brady gave him the creeps, instead.

"Are you gay?" Brendan asked, straightening up suddenly, so much that Danny jumped up in fright.

"Not really," Danny replied hesitantly. "I never liked definitions."

"Bullshit! We are all something. You're either gay or you're not. "

Danny paused to think about it for a while, then he decided to answer. "Bisexual, then."

"The worst kind of gays!" Brendan spit, curling his lips in a grimace of disgust.

"My wife knows. She has always known the way I am. "Danny added, as if he could make the whole situation less detestable.

"Does she know you fuck lads?"

"I don't-" Danny hastened to protest, stopping instantly under Brendan's skeptical gaze. Finally, he shook his head. "No, she doesn't."

"Your life is a lie... just like mine until a while ago. "

"This changes nothing" said Danny vehemently. "I love my son and I want the best for him. I want him to have a family. I want him to have all I couldn't give him before."

"I can feel why Steven doesn't want all that." Brendan said with cold harshness, but at the same time he felt sorry for the man before him, for his desperation. "But you can still try," he added in the end.

Danny looked up at him in surprise. "Do you think I still have a chance with him?"

Brendan nodded. "And I'm still handing myself into the police in a couple of days."

.

.

.

Brendan walked on tiptoe, trying not to make any noise. The lights turned on suddenly, startling him .

" Where have you been ? "

Ste was standing in front of him with only his boxers on, his arms folded and an inhospitable scowl on his face .

"Out ," said Brendan curtly, as he took off his coat.

"I see . Where? "

Brendan smiled incredulously. "You're kidding, ain't ye? Six months locked up, have I the right to get an hour outside once in a while? "

Ste's expression softened. "I was dead worried. I woke up and you weren't at my side. You could've left a message at least."

Brendan came up to him and cupped his face. " I'm sorry. I didn't know I had to do with an anxious wifey."

"Shut up!"

Ste dived on him, squeezing him tight. "I was so scared ," he sobbed against his chest .

Brendan stroked his hair as his throat tightened because of a lump that made him barely breathe .

Talking of anxious wives.

"Did you eat? " He croaked.

Ste shook his head.

"Not good. Come with me, "said Brendan, grabbing his hand and leading him over to the table where he had set some food for him in the evening .

Brendan sat down and dragged him to sit on his lap . "I'm gonna feed you, okay?"

Ste burst out laughing and wrapped his arms around Brendan's shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey! " Brendan protested. " I'm being serious ."

Then he took a bite of bread and put it close to his lips. After Ste stuck his tongue out to grab it, Brendan nodded in satisfaction. "Good!"

Then he took a slice of salami and repeated the same ritual. Ste already felt satiated after the fifth bite and began to rock on Brendan's knees, rubbing his butt on pelvis of him.

"Stop it! " Brendan warned him. "I'm getting hard. "

Ste beamed and increased the intensity of his movements. A moment later, the both of them were very excited.

Ste turned around and straddled Brendan, looking deep into his eyes, a dirty grin on his face. Brendan felt his heart skip a beat, lost in that liquid gaze. The lump in his throat probably had fallen down in his stomach and started catching fire. He was burning.

Mustering all his strength, Brendan stood up making him scream for finding himself all of a sudden lifted off the ground, and instinctively Ste held tighter to him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Brendan carried him up to the bedroom and then dropped him onto the bed, panting with the effort, and never taking his eyes off him.

He began to undress quickly, first his shirt pulled up over his head, then his shoes and pants, tossed somewhere across the room. Ste slightly lifted his pelvis up off the bed to pull down his boxers very very slowly.

"You know what happens to naughty boys, little Steven, don't ye? "

Languidly, Ste stroke the length of his own erection in response and Brendan swallowed loudly, completely stunned by that image. Quickly, Brendan took his underwear off and knelt on the bed in front of him. He pushed him down onto his back as Ste tried to get up, and locked his lips, sucking his tongue ravenously, then bit his chin, licked his neck and all his way down his chest and stomach, savouring his squirm and moans, his eyes rolled back in pleasure, and from there every inch of him for what seemed like forever. Finally, he spread Ste's legs open and, holding them apart, his face dove in between.

He needed to taste him into his mouth, deep into his throat, fix him on his own tongue permanently.

He wondered how he would do to leave that all behind.

.

.

A sudden thunder woke him up. Brendan opened for a few seconds his eyes and saw the rain falling down against the windows. He grunted, then draped his arm over Ste's stomach and went back to sleep. After a while, other sounds woke him again and Brendan tried to ignore them burying his head into the crook of Ste's arm. However, the sounds became more and more insistent, until he realized that it was not the storm that knocked on the door, but someone.

"Steven? Hey, Steven! "

"Wha-?"

Ste muttered, annoyed. The hours he had been sleeping for could be counted on one hand, and he had neither the strength nor the will to lift a finger.

"There's someone at the door," Brendan informed him .

Ste mumbled a sort of groan and turned away to go back to sleep.

In the meantime, the knocking continued and Brendan decided to take drastic measures. He grabbed the glass with the water from the beside table and poured it on Ste's head. Ste sprang to sit up, gasping.

"Are you insane?" he cried indignantly.

"Go and answer the door!" Brendan ordered him.

Ste replied with a puff of air from his nose and a pout that could incinerate a tree. He summarily wiped his face with a corner of the sheet and got out of the bed, making his way out.

"Um... maybe you should put something on" Brendan advised him .

Ste gritted his teeth as grabbed a pair of boxers, Brendan's probably, then kept walking out of the door.

Arrived at the door, he looked through the peephole and his sight was filled with a cascade of golden curls. Ste snorted and opened the door, letting a frenetic Cheryl in. The woman abruptly placed a newspaper under his nose. Ste pushed it away, bothered, and closed the door.

"No reading before breakfast, Cheryl."

The woman held out a paper bag with some croissants whose fragrant smell revived his taste buds.

Ste grabbed the bag and headed for the kitchen. Brendan came out of the bedroom a few seconds later and hugged his sister.

"Did you read this, Bren?" Cheryl asked, handing him what she had tried to show Ste before.

Brendan grabbed the newspaper and looked at the first page, frowning. There were three pictures side by side: Trevor Royle, Carmelo Di Pasquale, that Carmelo, Brendan thought, and him.

According to the press Brady's and Royle's murders were connected. It was assumed that Di Pasquale had killed Brendan to get rid of a wounded man who was in the way and then Royle to rob him.

Brendan accepted a croissant from Ste's hands and he was about to give the first bite when he stopped dumbfounded. Wait a minute.

Brendan Brady's murder?

Brendan started reading the article under his breathe, finding out that the DNA test had confirmed the first identification by Steven Hay.

Brendan Brady was officially dead.

"What happened, Bren?"

Brendan shifted a thoughtful look on Ste's back, intent on eating his breakfast, impassive.

"I have no idea, sis."

"They're wrong, ain't they?" The woman insisted.

"Probably." He said.

"Now what?"

Brendan shrugged and sat down in front of Ste, trying in vain his eyes as he pretended to give a further look at the newspaper.

"What am I gonna tell the kids?"

"Brendan looked up at her. "The truth," he replied colourless," that their dad is in a better place now. "

Cheryl stared at him bewildered, unable to utter a sound.

Brendan waited for Cheryl to go away before talking to Ste, because something inside him was telling him that he had something to do with what happened, even though he couldn't yet figure out how and when.

"I'm gonna wash myself" Ste said, rising from his chair and quickly making his way to the bathroom.

Brendan rushed to stop him, interposing himself between him and the door .

"Steven?"

"What?"

"Do you have anything to say?

Ste gulped visibly and looked down. "Why do you think I have to do with that," he asked back, pointing out the newspaper open on the table.

"Because you've been quiet all the time before. That's why. Plus you wanted the things to go this way."

Ste looked up and stared at him straight in the eye. "I thought you wanted the same."

"It depends on what you've done. What have you done, Steven? "He asked bluntly.

"Nothing." said Ste, hesitantly.

Brendan looked at him with a raised eyebrow, making him feel the sudden urge to hide in a hole.

"Right!" he snapped suddenly. "I asked someone in the hospital."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, if that person is not a friend. Is it your friend, Steven?"

"Who cares?"

"I care, Steven. A lot."

Ste was sick and tired about that kind of questioning. All he wanted was taking a shower and forgetting about it all.

Brendan grabbed his arm tight. "Tell me!" he ordered in a harsh tone.

Ste wriggled away from him and rubbed his arm where Brendan's grip had been strong and determined.

"I promised him cash," he said, finally.

"Who, Steven? Tell me who he is! "

Ste looked at him hesitantly. After a long time he was terrified by the reaction that Brendan might have. Perhaps for the first time and consciously.

"Bro-Browning" he mumbled with a faint voice.


End file.
